


Being Neighbors: Part 2

by mysticaljayne



Series: Being Neighbors [2]
Category: Avengers
Genre: AU, Cameos, F/M, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Poor Reader, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Random crossover references, Rape, Stockholm Syndrome, Tags Are Hard, domestic abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-30
Updated: 2018-01-04
Packaged: 2018-09-20 20:30:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 25
Words: 29,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9512642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mysticaljayne/pseuds/mysticaljayne
Summary: After being taken back under Hammer's control, you slowly start going back to the person you were before you took the chance the run. Everything while you were away starts to feel more and more like a dream.Until you find out something that shouldn't be.Will you take the chance of escape that is right in front of you? Will you be able to fight the control to be willing to take that chance?Will you ever see Bucky again?*Warning: This one has very few pies and even fewer fluffy parts than the first. You probably could read this one alone, though reading the first one does help explain the circumstance a bit more.





	1. On the run... Spiderman?

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, readers. If you happen to notice, the first first chapter here is the same as the last chapter of the last one. Just a little way to set it up so that this could, theoretically, be read separate from the other one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Readers...if you notice, this chapter is the same as the last one in part 1. This way is to try to make it so each story can be read alone, theoretically.

Practice makes perfect, and this time was no different from the last. Everything was set up so it would seem as if you would be there for another two months, but you will be long gone before anyone thinks to check in on you. There was Bucky, but he was gone. No one here will notice, at least until everything came back around. Even then, they’ll just think you took off like the drifter you put on paper.

 

You grab the one bag you’ve put together to hold all of the tools of the trade. You have it set up so that the right mix of moves and the bag, with all of its contents, will destroy itself. Your creations cannot end up in the wrong hands. You learned that a long time ago. It may seem extreme, but you saw what happens when that occurs. Too many die. Too many _innocent_ people.

 

One more sweep before you go, but you have to hold back the emotions flittering around inside. Now was not the time to get emotional. You’ve done this before, but it was different this time. This time you have memories to leave behind. Memories of curling around someone that you’ve grown to care about. Memories of being able to truly be yourself. Here, you let go of the cloak that you’ve had since running away. Someone, many someone’s, know who you are, and didn’t treat you any differently because of it.

 

You pull on gloves and take a deep breath to let it go. You let go of the emotions and reminded yourself that the memories were your own. What happened here was something that you would get to keep close to heart, no matter what happens.

 

No matter what.

 

You lock the door behind you, because that is what you would normally do on a day out. You have to appear as though you will return, even if you aren’t going to. That’s a part of the game, or a part of the running play. They can never know what you are about to do. Be at least three steps ahead, with a plan already created for the fifth and sixth steps. That’s how you survived. That’s how you’ve kept your freedom.

 

The difference from this time and the times before, you casually drop the apartment key in one of the fake potted plants by the door. Eventually someone will find it. Eventually someone will do something with it. Eventually.

 

That is the word you keep in mind. Eventually. Eventually you’ll just be a passing memory. Eventually you’ll be just a ghost. You still wish that the same could be said for Hammer as for the people in this building and at work. His obsession was something that you still can’t quite understand.

 

There are plenty of other people out there who can do the same things that you can. You aren’t that special, not really. The only difference between them and you, is that he’s already trained you. Could that be why he is trying so hard to find you, even after all this time? Seems ridiculous, but that’s the most logical answer that you can conclude.

 

Or illogical, considering that you are thinking of yourself as a pet again. It was a bad habit that you hadn’t been having to fight since you started hanging around Bucky. He didn’t make you feel like a pet, and so you didn’t think of yourself in those terms. He saw you as a person. Sees. Bucky _sees_ you as a person, and so should you.

 

You watch your surroundings as close as you can on the way to the market. At the market you can fade into the crowds and disperse with one of the smaller groups within the crowd. A lone strangler is more likely to draw attention than someone on the outskirts of a small group. You learned that the second time you had to run. Hopefully you hadn’t waited too long before running this time.

 

Hopefully.

 

You have a tail. You look in the window to see the man you spot earlier show back yet again. You close your eyes for a moment before taking a deep breath to calm yourself. You can do this. This isn’t the first time you’ve caught the attention of unsavory individuals. They may not have anything to do with Hammer. He might just be a random person looking at the same stuff you are. It’s a possibility.

 

When another person joins up with him, you relax slightly. He was just waiting for his friend. Yeah. Just waiting for a friend.

 

You keep heading forward, hanging at the back of a group of tourists. You overhear them talking about the atmosphere and beauty. It really is a beautiful place. Too bad that you’ll never be able to come back. Once you have taken up residence in a place, it’s best to leave it for good. There are always people who remember, no matter how hard you try to not be remembered.

 

You take a glance behind you and don’t spot the two men from earlier. It was a coincidence, nothing more. Just a coincidence…

 

Large hands grab you and pull you away from the group you had been sort of a part of. You open your mouth to scream, but just get leather for your efforts. You snap you head back and crack with something that startles the person long enough to loosen their grip on you. You could use the skills that Bucky had tried so hard to train you in. You could pull out a weapon, one of the lethal ones, and take your attacker out. Kill them. You could. Easily.

 

You run.

 

You jump over trash and stray cats. You run past homeless people. You duck under hung laundry. You keep running. Moving is life. The faster you run, the further away from the attacker you get. The farther you go, the closer you are to freedom. The analysis sounds fine in your fear filled mind.

 

In your _fear filled mind_.

 

If you had been without fear, you would have noticed how the crowds had thinned even more. You would have realized that they were corralling you to a specific area. You would have realized it, but you were running on fear.

 

Around another corner and into a dead end. You turn around to leave to see your only exit trapped by a group wearing black. A quick glance tells you that not all of them are completely human. Most are, in fact, some form of humanoid robot.

 

The ones in the back don’t scare you nearly as much as the one in the front. Careful to not alert him to what you are doing, you pull on the strap while pushing the button on the side of your bag. You keep it at the ready. It was ready.

 

“Mr. Hammer has missed you.” The man in front that makes you flinch with every word out of his mouth steps in front of his people. “Time to go home.”

 

“I’m surprised.” You call out, not willing to get any closer than you already are. He steps closer, but you hold your ground. You see something above you move, but pass it off as nothing. “I didn’t think he’d send Dr. Doom after me.”

 

“You’ve been elusive.” He explains through his metallic mask. “Enough for him to call me in. Heard you’ve been keeping some interesting company. The Winter Soldier?”

 

There was a small beep, and that’s all you need to have you throw the bag straight at him in time for the self-destruct option come in handy. You duck and grab one of your pens in one hand and the gun in the other. The light is enough to blind, but you know it’s not enough to take out the Doctor.

 

A flash of red and blue has you turn your momentum to see someone come down on…spider web? You don’t even know anymore.

 

You don’t question the new person too much, because they are helping you with the drones while Doom moves to the back of the crowd. “What’d you do to get these goons on you?” The person in red, and yep- definitely a spider on his chest, tells you in a lighthearted manner.

 

You are either insane, or maybe this world really is as crazy as you. “I told their supplier no. What can you do?” You try to be lighthearted, but the stun was already out of your pen and the gun was out of bullets. You duck down behind a metal can and grab the goo gun out of your ankle holster. From your back you pull out another creation. You stand up and shoot one of the robots that was getting a bit close to your…helper? Savior?

 

“Cool color, dude.” The man, more like boy, comments on the bright blue good encasing the robot in place. Side effects.

 

You just aim with the other which sends out a specialized form of acid. “I prefer purple.” You tell him. “Thanks for the help, but you may want to leave.” No matter how many of those things the two of you are able to get rid of, there just seem to be more. Considering that it was Doom in charge of the army? Really no wonder.

 

“No can do.” The boy in red flips overtop two of them and webs another one into place. “Superheroes don’t leave their damsels behind.”

 

The goo gun jams, and you throw it down. Useless. “I’m not a damsel.” You grumble.

 

A thud and everything goes silent. “Pet?” You freeze at the old nickname, but you don’t respond. “Now, come on. Drop the weapons and we won’t your ‘savior’.”

 

You slowly poke up from where you had just ducked. You still have one of your creations in hand, but the clicking of a gun has you freeze. “Don’t.”

 

“Put it down, little pet.” Doom taunts, standing over the body of the red and blue clad boy who had dropped in to help. “Now.”

 

You glance down at the kid, and then move back to the man who was one of the stars in your nightmares. “On…only if you leave the kid alone, and here.” Eventually the boy will wake up. Eventually he’ll be okay enough to move on his own. Eventually, if he survives being unconscious.

 

“Deal.” Doom shrugs, already throwing the weapon that he really didn’t need off to the side. “But only if you agree to go willingly.”

 

You nod, not trusting your vocal words. You drop the weapon you still had on the ground and step around into the open. You glance at the motionless boy, but you don’t move to run to him. That would only give him more reason to actually hurt the kid stupid enough to step into a battle not his own.

 

Two different hands belonging to two different people encircle your upper arms. “Humans?” You question, because even though the people holding on to you look human that doesn’t mean much in this day and age.

 

“Hydra.” The one to your left answers, and you close your eyes in an attempt to block everything out. This can’t be happening. It just can’t be.

 

“Hydra?” You ask, but you know what it was/is. “Didn’t know Hammer was still supplying you guys.” Going by the past, they were getting the better weapons in storage than what he was selling the US government.

 

Someone backhands you, and you spit the blood out. “You have fire in you.” A hydra goon leans forward to stick his face in your own. “Hammer will beat it out of you soon enough.”

 

You tighten your lips, but don’t respond. He’s probably right. You’ll be punished for running away. You’re going to be punished for a lot of things.

 

You knew the you will when you ran, but you had to give it a chance. You wouldn’t trade your time of freedom for anything that Hammer will dish out.

 

You are quiet when they shove you on the plane. You are quiet, and appear to be almost accepting as the group guarding you dwindles down. You keep your calm. You are in control. They can do whatever they want to you, but they can’t get to _you._

 

At least until you are pulled into the mansion you grew up in, and look up into the brown eyes that floated about your mind to fill you with terror. You are in control, until you aren’t.

 

You struggle as he deliberately walks his way to you. Any of the training Bucky gave you is gone as you search for a way out. There is none. There is none, even as you feel the needle jab into your arm and the tranquilizer releases into your bloodstream.

 

“Welcome home, pet.”

 

Oblivion.


	2. Memories in time...

“Welcome home, Pet.”

 

The first time Mr. Hammer called you that, you were returning from a trip back home. You were twelve at the time, and had to fight back the tears when he opened the doors with that greeting and a hand motioning you inwards. The state had just given him complete custody of you after deeming your parents unfit. Unfit… That was a nice way of saying it.

 

Mr. Hammer was called when your medical insurance was used at the emergency room. The place smelled like antiseptic and blood, you recall. The lights were bright, the sounds were loud, and everyone was asking way too many questions. You just wanted to go home, wherever that was. You just wanted everything to be a very bad nightmare.

 

But it wasn’t.

 

This was reality. This was _your_ reality. Your reality was three broken ribs, a concussion, shattered right radius, and dislocated left shoulder. Your reality was that the home you looked back on so fondly was just a lie. There was no safe place. None.

 

“What happened?” Mr. Hammer looked and acted concerned, and to your eyes at that time he was completely honest. Looking back, he had a glint of triumph in his eyes. He must have known what your family was capable of. He must have, because he had let you go was too easily.

 

“I want to go home.” You remember telling him, wearing a bright Sunday dress because that’s what he liked seeing you in. Before last night, you hadn’t known why. Now…Now you do, and you are self-conscious of things that you never thought of before.

 

Things that came down to how much of your skin was being shown by the flimsy dress he gave you a few months ago on a whim.

 

He puts down the phone he had been talking on to better focus on you. “Really? You haven’t wanted to in the past. What’s wrong, my Pet? Didn’t you enjoy your birthday?”

 

Birthday…what he did was one way to ruin a happy day. The party he threw was a lot larger than any that you could have had at home, but it was also very boring. It was an adult party, a way to celebrate you growing into an adult, even if you weren’t quite one yet. You couldn’t drink there, but you did stand by his side to talk about the different projects you were working on for the company. You answered a few questions and smiled at the potential business partners. It may not have been fun, but it was something that you were learning to be good at.

 

That night, though, is why you were running back home. Home was where you were safe at. Home was…Home was where you got to be a kid without having to ‘pay’ for your upkeep.

 

His hand pushing back your hair comes to mind, and the way he unzipped the dress you wore to the party. Mr. Hammer was slow and sweet, even as you flinched at every touch and looked at him with wide, fear-filled eyed. “Now. Now. Pet. It’s okay. Everything is going to be alright. This is my birthday gift to you. Don’t you trust me?”

 

You nod at him, still afraid and not knowing what he was about to do. You remember pain when he invaded your too small frame. You remember him hushing you as you cried in pain. Afterwards, he laid with his arm wrapped around you. He was asleep, but you couldn’t shut your eyes. You remember the pink curtains with the work table set up underneath of it. At the time, you had been working on some type of laser system that you barely remember the designs for. At least you barely want to.

 

At sixteen was when the pain changed from something unintentional to something that he enjoyed getting from you. He bought you toys at your ‘private party’. You still remember the gag ball that he said that the two of you would try out at some point, and how you still held fear then. By the time Mr. Hammer brought out the plugs and pear, you had been running on fear for so long that you couldn’t summon anymore.

 

No bruises. No broken bones. No cuts. He had those rules, but sometimes even he didn’t follow them. When he didn’t, it didn’t really matter. Everyone was paid off that could help you. Heck, some were even blackmailed.

 

Just look at the guards. Mr. Hammer had a very effective manner in picking through his guards. By the time they came up in ranks to be able to guard you, he even had other methods of controlling them. Or, at least he knew them well enough to follow the rules.

 

Rule Number 1: Secrecy. Nothing that happens while employed by Mr. Hammer is to be spoken to anyone.

 

Loyalty…that was a part of it. Loyalty to the dollar and not to human life. Some of the things you witnessed by the side and behind Mr. Hammer would easily put a lot of people in jail. Not that you ever had the chance to tell anyone. Even running away didn’t change that.

 

Nothing ever changes. Not really. At least, the change is never good.

 

Like the powder pink curtains that Mr. Hammer bought you when you first moved to his manor at the age of 8. He thought you loved pink, and you never felt the need to tell him otherwise. All you wanted was your books, tools, and materials. You just wanted to be able to create whatever it is that happened to come to mind.

 

The things ranged from cybernetics, nuclear power, and around into applied physics. You caught Mr. Hammer’s attention because of the battery that you created from an old doll. The more you played with it, the more the battery would charge. That was the beauty of that time…you could study anything.

 

Even over the years Mr. Hammer encouraged you to play in any field that caught your fancy. It seemed to amuse him that his young protégé was able to take on experienced topics that confounded the experts in their fields. He would also look at you proudly whenever you would solve a problem deemed unsolvable.

 

Unsolvable…

 

Unchanged…

 

Memories mold together back into darkness before becoming a bright light. Your eyes flutter open, before you close your eyes yet again. Powder pink curtains. Work table. Stuffed bears. Unopened gifts.

 

The room was unmarked from when you left it all those years ago. Nothing was changed with it. Nothing.

 

Because nothing has changed…. you know the door is locked from the outside. There was no way out. No way at all. You already tried dozens of times in the past. It’s why you gave up being able to escape this room, this manor, a long time ago. The only way you had to escape was somewhere off of the premises.

 

By the time he let you leave, you never even thought to try to escape. You never thought…until a woman in red tried to give support to the young fiancé of a business rival.

 

“Follow your heart, no matter what the world thinks.”

 

Ms. Potts didn’t mean it the way that you took it, but it unlocked whatever courage you had to sneak out the back door to follow what your heart wanted.

 

Freedom.

 

But now you are back, with only memories and a few words of encouragement to keep you strong until you find a way to escape.

 

“Don’t…hide behind obedience. You have fire in you. Don’t…don’t try to hide it.” While Bucky’s advice may have been good when you were free, it won’t work here. Here, you have to be as obedient as possible. Obedience means that you will be more likely to be trusted. More trust means more room to try to find a way to escape.

 

Virginia Pepper’s voice floats into mind. “Follow your heart…” Your heart is telling you to escape as fast as you can back to Bucky. That plan definitely isn’t plausible. Bucky is with his friends who knows where. You don’t.

 

“Try not to get into too much trouble.” Which, yeah. You are doing the exact opposite of that order. You are as far into trouble as you can imagine right now. Truly, you don’t even want to know much further into trouble would be possible for you to get into.

 

What else?  Come on, brain. Give some clues that will actually be helpful for this situation.

 

“Now think. How can you get out of this?”

 

Puzzle pieces. This is just like a larger version of the training Bucky gave you. Look for the holes, and exploit them.

 

Look for the holes.

 

"Now think. How can you get out of this?"


	3. Escape Plan

The panic starts to subside as you are able to focus in on the situation as though you are looking at a problem involving one of your creations. There are no real windows, at least none that you would be able to use. Bars. Hammer hired someone to put them in when you snuck out a week after your thirteenth birthday. You were on your own for almost a full day before someone was sent to drag you back.

 

Thinking to that plan, you subconsciously shake your head at how foolish you had been. You should have waited two more days for him to go on his business trip. No one would have noticed you being gone for at least two weeks then. At least, because sometimes Mr. Hammer liked to extend his trips if there were any possibility of one-upping Mr. Stark.

 

Anyway, that was then and this is now. You’ve learned a bit more from then. A bit more, because you still couldn’t think of a plan on how to escape. Plan on how to defend? Sure, that would be easy, except for the lack of resources. Even with all of the weapons, there was still the problem with a lack of food.

 

Even with…

 

Wait a second. Weapons. Most of things in the room were prototypes not even half finished, but putting them together…

 

No. That was a foolish thought.

 

You still look back at the door and look over the half-finished creations with a critical eye. Foolish idea. A very foolish idea.

 

Too bad you couldn’t think of anything else….

 

Combining two different projects, you have created something else. You look at it critically before pushing it under your bed. That wouldn’t work. The dimensions of the room were off for that plan. Not enough space for maneuvering. Never mind that it would probably hit you just as hard as it would everyone ese. Good for a suicide plan, but not for an escape one. The goal right now is escape, maybe later on suicide will be added back to the list.

 

Back, because at some point it had been at the top of the list. One of the reasons why the cops weren’t suspicious at the birth control pills.

 

“Hormonal imbalances.” Mr. Hammer explained to the detectives that brought up your medical file. The two detectives in New York had seemed to have a few marbles running around in their heads. They actually looked at more than just what was on the surface.

 

Detective Benson, because your memory is weird like that, was the one that waited in your room while her partner took Mr. Hammer outside to discuss something about guardianship. “Honey, what’s going on? You can tell me.”

 

 

You remember shaking your head at her. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Even as you said the words, you knew exactly what her look meant. You remember wanting to wrap your arms around you, but not being able to because of the injuries that your dad left. Why did you forget the rules?

 

Rule Number 3: Never make dad angry.

 

You forgot it, which is why you were stuck being in that situation. You could tell the detective the truth, or lie. You could tell her why Mr. Hammer insisted on your doctor putting you on the birth control. You could tell her what he did to you. You could tell her why you asked to go home after four years of not seeing your family. You could tell her…

 

But what would be the point?

 

“Is Justin Hammer doing anything to you?” Detective Benson was trying to be nice about it, but she couldn’t know how your mind worked.

 

Variables, even then. The world was full of variables. “I’m Mr. Hammer’s protégé.” You explained to her, one eye always on the door. “He gives me access to anything that I need, including medication.”

 

You remember the look she gave as one full of suspicion, but she didn’t dig further. Her and her partner didn’t make a scene when Mr. Hammer came to take you back home. You do remember her sitting in pews during your father’s trial, and then the trial deeming your mother unfit as your caretaker. The state gave you over to Hammer, and you guess that’s when you really gave up on the system. It’s not like you told them, but couldn’t they see? You started to see the world as green. Green, because that’s the color of money.

 

The people with power, with money, were able to do whatever they wanted to people like you. You had brains, sure, but no real power. Mr. Hammer had the power, even more power than your parents had over you. He had the power to take you from them, and to keep you.

 

Whatever. That was the past. The past couldn’t be changed. The only thing that can be changed is the future. You can sit in the room, wallowing in memories, or you can come up with a plan on escaping.

 

The windows aren’t an option. The only other option left before you was the door. Eventually someone would have to come and look in on you. Eventually. The thing between now and eventually is that you can be prepared.

 

There are tools everywhere.

 

Chargers. Plug ins. Wires. Garrote.

 

You grab the lamp next to the bed. In one hand you wrap part of the wire around it to hold it into place. You have a bludgeon in on hand, and a garrote in the other. At least potentially.

 

You move to stand behind the door, ready to attack. The best chance you have at defending yourself, or to try to escape, is to get through this door. From the door you can move through the halls into the servant’s area. From there you can keep on out into the grounds. The grounds to the road, and eventually to freedom. Perfect plan, yes?

 

The door handle starting to turn starts the tremors to start. Now wasn’t the time to panic. You had to be willing to fight your way out. You have to… Fighting is the only way you’ll ever be able to escape now.


	4. Garrote...and Punishment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You fight back, and Hammer reminds you of your place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning, here. Dark chapter ahead.

 

“Pet?” His voice brought forth so many memories, and rage. The rage is what pushed back the terror to have you throw the cord over his head to wrap around his neck.

 

You pull back, cutting off his airway with the wire from the lamp. There is a possibility that you would miscalculate and kill him, but you don’t care. You don’t care, because you can’t be here. Not anymore. You can’t be the victim again. Never again.

 

Never…

 

Someone, ‘probably a guard’ your mind supplies, holds you up off the floor while someone else pulls the weapon away from you. The cord cuts your hands until you let go. Gasping for air, Hammer is on the ground. His expression, though, is one of pleasure. He rubs his neck, but his eyes are lit up with glee, along with the corners of his mouth.

 

“Fighting again, pet?” He asks you, and you struggle against the hold that the others have on you. Faceless muscle. Why didn’t you calculate the guards that he liked to have around? Security. Security detail for both yourself and him.

 

The answer to your question you answer yourself when you focus on the bed and the straps that you forgot to remember. Or you remembered to forget. If you had calculated the guards in, you knew that there would be no escape. At least not until he brought you back into the fold. Back into the mold he created you in.

 

“Strip.” Hammer orders, and you refuse to respond to him. You glare at him even as the fight starts to leave out of you. Physical fighting wouldn’t help you, but you could do mental. You can’t control what happens to you physically, but you can control your mind. At least control your mind until you have the chance to control the physical.

 

He rolls his eyes, and when he’s within range you kick out to land a blow at his unprotected face. He reels back, holding his nose. The excitement from earlier is gone and rage has come in its place. “Strip her and tie her down.” Hammer orders the muscle, and you renew your fight to escape their hold.

 

“No!” You yell at them, fighting against the hold keeping you in place and the person who was deftly taking off your shoes. “No. No. No. Stop it.”

 

The tennis shoes that you bought yourself months ago are casually slung across the floor. When Muscle 2 reaches for the button of your pants, Hammer holds up a hand as a silent order to stop him. Muscle 2 holds your feet so you can’t kick out again. Hammer is the one to unbutton them to pull both the jeans and underwear down. His eyes don’t leave your own. Rage and lust.

 

It was your sixteenth birthday party all over again when he caught you kissing a guest…

 

The boy was the son of a prominent businessman who Hammer was trying to get a better deal from. Being one of the few people in your age group there, he approached you for a dance. The teen had you laugh for the first time in months and the spark of something started. So, near the end of the party when he bent down to give you a kiss, you didn’t think anything of it.

 

You didn’t see the harm, but Mr. Hammer did. That night was similar to this. He wasn’t gentle, but forceful in his taking of his pleasure from you. It wasn’t whatever messed up version of love that he had been doing since you turned twelve, but something of claiming. Or owning. Of reminding you of your place.

 

It hurt. Just as the look in his face was promising you now. He was going to remind you who was master, and you were going to pay for having to be reminded.

 

The pants come off, Muscle 2’s hands holding your legs into position so the pants could be flung next to the shoes. Some careful maneuvering on their parts has you positioned on the bed. They drop you down, but Hammer holds you down with his hips before you have the chance to get into a better position to fight back. “Strap her feet down. I have her.” He tells you, his breath going into your face. You feel the heat, and smell the fruity scent of the drinks he always preferred.

 

You try to kick out, but strong hands pull your feet apart and straps come around your ankles. First the right one and then the left. You struggle against the hold on your arms. He’s close enough so you head butt him. He pulls back just out of range.

 

“Knife.” He orders, and you freeze. He never has left a permanent mark, but you’ve never fought back like this before, either. He sees this, and the shark smile is back into place. “Her arms.” He smirks at your fear. Both Muscles 1 and 2 each grab an arms to place them back in straps that they haven’t been in for a while.

 

You lay there, just your shirt and bra still on. He takes the knife and cuts those off before holding it out for Muscle 1 to take. “Leave.” He orders, and both guards leave.

 

You struggle against the bindings, even though you know it will be useless. He gets off of you, pulling off his clothes in what you assume he thinks is seductive. Though, to you at the moment, it is merely a way to build up the fear. The trepidation for what is going to happen.

 

Shirt first. Then the shoes that cost more than what you’ve made in a year. At last he undoes his belt and pulls his slacks off. The both of you are bare to the world.

 

“Please, Mr. Hammer.” You beg out, you know crying isn’t going to help but you can’t help it. “Don’t.”

 

“Master, my pet. Or Justin.” He settles between your thighs, his length already up and searching for your heat. “You know which I prefer.” He mutters next to your ear before suddenly pushing inward.

 

You don’t scream. You learned a long time ago that screaming doesn’t do anything. No one is there to hear you. At least no one that will help.

 

“Look at me.” Hammer orders before he forcefully pulls your face back to his. Hard fingers where you know they can be soft if he so choices, holds you into place.

 

Tears leak out of your eyes, but you don’t scream. You don’t beg. Not anymore. This was his way of showing you where you belong.

 

You aren’t a person, but an object for him. An object to make money. An object to control. An object for his pleasure.

 

‘Sugar…’ Your mind reminds you of someone who was gentle when he could easily have been rough. You wish for someone to come. For someone to ride in like a white knight.

 

But no one will, because this isn’t a fairy tale.

 

In fairy tales, the victim is always saved. In fairy tales, everything turns out alright at the end. Everything falls perfectly into place for the hero to win.

 

This is real world, where the lines are blurred. The heroes are villains, and the villains are victims.

 

When does it stop?

 

Master. Justin. Mr. Hammer. He eventually is satiated and stops. “Sorry, pet. I can’t untie you, yet.” He tells you after rolling off. “I can’t trust you not to hurt yourself.” His touch is gentle now as he wipes a finger down your face, the anger from earlier faded away along with the lust. “You understand, right?”

 

You turn your face away, refusing to give him a response.

 

“Are you cold?” You don’t answer, but he gets a blanket from a drawer and throws it over you. “There you go, pet. Love you. I’ll be back in a bit. I just have to do a few things.”

 

He waits a few moments for you to respond before gentle shutting the door behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you all think about the insight into the Hammer household?
> 
> Sorry for taking so long. My computer has been a bit on the fritz. I've just now got it to knock it off long enough for me to type anything more than a few sentences.
> 
> Hope to hear from you readers. I really do enjoy comments.


	5. Anya... Nurse and Confidant

You lay in that position for what felt like hours, but may have easily been mere minutes. Some part of you has shut down that you can’t force to turn back on. If you were at the hospital, they’d probably say you were going into some type of shock or dissociative episode. What just happened couldn’t have happened, because it just brought home that you were back.

 

The door creaks open and you close your eyes to keep yourself in the haze that you have encased your mind in. “Sovenok?” A higher pitched voice calls quietly into the room. You know that voice, but you still can’t bring yourself to fight against the fog. “Ty prosnulsya?”

 

“Da. YA prosnulsya.” You answer as the fog lifts just a bit. “Anya? Mozhete li vy otmenit' privyazok?” You call out to one of the caretakers Mr. Hammer had hired specifically for you to undo the bindings. She used to be the one to help you come to terms with things that would happen, also with helping with the bruises and so forth.

 

The older woman comes around and undoes each binding. She leaves the blanket on you, which you are grateful for. She used to just yank it off before telling you to get dressed. “Gde ty byl, sovenok?”

 

“Different places, Anya.” You sit up, wrapping the blanket more securely around you. “I flew from the nest.”

 

“Still a baby owl.” Anya tells you, digging out a sundress from the closet. “This one.” She pulls out a pale peach colored one. “Gospodin Hammer really likes you in it.”

 

You shake your head, not wanting to be pulled back into the position that you tried so hard to run away from. “I don’t care, Anya. I have to get out of here.”

 

“Zachem? Eto vash dom.” Anya asks you, reminding you of what they called this place when you first showed up at the place.

 

Mr. Hammer placed a hand on your eight-year-old shoulders as you looked at the place bigger than the entire apartment complex you lived in with your parents and older brother. Everything was so much cleaner and larger than you could even dream of at that young age.

 

“Kit?” Hammer spoke to get you attention. It was hard, but you focused on the man looking down at you with a half-smile. “Ready to see the rest of your home?”

 

“My home?” You remember whispering, afraid that if you spoke too loud that he would send you back. This was an opportunity that you couldn’t afford to lose. This opportunity was both a chance to have access to materials that you never could otherwise, and to escape your father’s fists.

 

“Da, eto vash dom.” The older woman that you now know as Anya told you with a kind smile, even if her eyes didn’t light up with her flash of teeth. “Mister Hammer? Vy khotite dlya menya, chtoby zakonchit' tur?” You couldn’t understand her, but you remembered her words. She had been asking if Hammer wanted her to finish showing you the house.

 

Hammer shook his head, one arm pulling you close to his side. “No, Anya. I’ll show her the rest of the place. This is her new home, and I’m the master of this place.”

 

“Yavlyayetsya li ona byt' vasha nevesta?” Anya had asked, and Hammer had merely nodded.

 

You didn’t know Russian then, but you do now it know. She asked if you were going to be his bride.

 

“Kogda nastalo vremya.” Hammer told her, before leading you on around the place. “Now, pet, what would you like to see first?”

 

See first…except this is now and not then. “Home is where you are safe, Anya. I’m not safe here.” You aren’t really safe anywhere, but here was worse than out there. Out there you could be anyone that you wanted. Here? Here you had to do things, be hurt, in order to be safe.

 

A cage is still a cage, no matter how gilded the bars.

 

Anya tsked at you while picking up the clothes Hammer had thrown across the room in his…’teaching’. “You are everything to Mr. Hammer, sovenok. He will do anything to keep you with him.”

 

That was the problem. You wanted to be let go.


	6. Dinner and...Escape?

Anya pulls the blanket until you have to let it go. “Now, sovenok, what you are going to do is take a shower, get dressed, and go down there to have dinner with Hammer. Understand?”

 

You shake your head, feet planted firmly on the ground. “No, Anya. I want the clothes I came in with. I’m leaving.” You grab ahold a piece of the clothing in her hands.

 

“Nyet.” Anya’s smile goes away to be completely the cold woman that would easily give you a rap on the hand for any form of disobedience. “These are to be destroyed, and you are to stay. Hammer’s orders.”

 

You pull on the clothing, still not cowed. “Those are mine, Anya, and to stay or not is MY choice. Not Hammer’s.” Your eyes locked with her older ones, and you refused to back down.

 

Though there is a reason why Hammer chose her to be your primary caretaker here. “He has given you everything, child. Without him, you would still be on that gutter street. Probably buried with the rest of your family.”

 

You refuse to raise to the bait. You refuse, but she knows the buttons that always got to you. “Don’t talk about my family, Anya. My brother deserved better.” He did, because even though he made mistakes, he still cared about people at the end of the day. He had a code in a world that broke a rule as soon as it was created.

 

He didn’t deserve to be killed at sixteen by the gang because he refused to join them in raping a girl into silence.

 

“But he is dead. Mertv. You aren’t.” Anya answered, cool as ice and calm as stone. “Living is hard, sovenok. Surviving is harder. Now you can live, because you survived.” She pulled the clothing free of you hold. “A compromise. Take your bath. You can pick your clothes for dinner.”

 

Naked, you walk into the bathroom and shut it behind you. Turning on the water, you let the memories come and go as they want. Memories of just starting your run all the way up to meeting Bucky. Running gave you the chance to survive, but Bucky gave you the chance to live. Here was slow death…

 

You step in, not even caring if the water was hot or cold at this point. They wanted you to wash away all parts of you longed for freedom. You weren’t going to let them. You had to keep the strength that Bucky saw, and Hammer tried so hard to repress. YOU choose your fate. YOU choose what happens. Nobody else.

 

Steam fills the bathroom as you wash your hair. Eventually Hammer will see about turning you back into the person you used to be, but there are pieces that you changed that will be harder for him to pull back than others. You aren’t scared anymore.

 

Actually, more like silently terrified but you can’t let that shut you down. What he just did to you wasn’t the first time something like that happened, and something told you that it wouldn’t be the last before the opportunity came for you to escape. It doesn’t mean that you won’t try.

 

You step out of the shower and wrap yourself up in a towel. You crack open the door, making sure no one was out there before stepping back into your room. “Anya?” You call, hoping that she’ll be gone. Even if she was like a mother figure to you, certain things she said pushed you to stay where you weren’t safe. In her world, in her time, in her mind, the things that Hammer did to you were something to shrug off. It was expected of men to behave in such a manner.

 

It still doesn’t change the fact that it’s wrong.

 

You dig in the closet, trying to go as fast as you can before Anya would come and get you for dinner. If she got here before you were done, there was nothing stopping her from pulling you down there in whatever clothing you had on. A small rebellion, but you dig into the back of your closet for work clothes. Hammer always preferred you in little dresses or skirts whenever you weren’t studying or working.

 

Instead of the sandals or house shoes you had, you dig out the boots you had from the last hike you did with a team in search of a rare metal. You had been surprised he’d let you go, but you had gained his trust by that point. You had been allowed out in public by yourself by then. Well, at least with his trusted people watching nearly every step you made.

 

You stand at the ready, waiting for Anya to come and gather you. There are plenty of things that you can use to fight, but nothing small enough that it wouldn’t be obvious. You may need to think outside of the box for your escape to actually come to fruition.

 

When she does come, she shakes her head at your chosen outfit. But, a deal is a deal. She leads the way down the stairs, confident in the knowledge that you won’t hurt her. You won’t, because at the end of the day she really has had the best in mind for you. At least that’s what you have to think. Otherwise…there really has been no on there.

 

Hammer looks up from his meal, but instead of looking at you in disappointment, hunger is in his eyes. The once over he gives you is long and lecherous. This was not what you had in mind when you picked the outfit. Maybe his tastes have changed while you were away?

 

“Come, sit, pet.” He motions you to a seat, but you stand there until Anya pushes you forward. You take the seat, unconsciously flinching when the door shuts announcing Anya’s departure.

 

It’s just the two of you. No witnesses, even if that had never stopped him before.

 

“It’s your favorite.” He cajoled, as though that would make up for what he did less than an hour ago. “Just eat with me, please? Tell me what you want?”

 

You convince yourself that eating couldn’t do anything, at least nothing more than what he would do if you outright refused. “Freedom.” You look over the meal, and the utensils. You barely hold back the smile when your eyes land on the fork and knife. You just had to wait for the right time during the meal. With a hostage, it should be easy enough to get out of here.

 

All you need is to get out off of his land, and you could get into a crowd. In the crowd, you will be lost with all of the rest of the people. Right now, that’s the best plan you’ve got.

 

It’s not like you are going to give up on an escape plan just because…Never mind. Forget it ever happened until you are safe enough to deal. Now is not the time to be pulled into a panic attack. Not now.

 

Hammer finished his bite and puts his fork down before responding. “You have the same freedoms as before you were taken.”

 

“I wasn’t taken!” Your plan to keep calm evaporating with the anger that came from his statement. “I LEFT, Mr. Hammer. Left, because I didn’t want to be here anymore.”

 

He stands, his anger as high as your own, and you stand with him. You weren’t about to be in any position in which he could think he could intimidate you anymore than he already can. “Do you still wish to leave?” Deceptively calm…but the anger was still there.

 

He was warning you to back down, but you don’t want to. “YES!” You slide the knife from the table into your hand. “I’m tired of being your prisoner.”

 

Hammer stalks around the table until he is standing right next to you. “Fences keep things in _and_ out, pet. I’m keeping you _safe._ Safe from the monsters out there.” His voice gentles and he gently rubs circles into your upper arms. “Don’t you understand, pet? I just want you to be safe. Is that unreasonable?”

 

“I’m safer out there than I am in here.” You regret the words as soon as they leave. Not because of the words, because they are the truth from the heart. No, you regret saying them out loud.

 

His gentle touch turns bruising and he slams you back down on the table. You try to pull up the knife you had earlier, but he easily smacks your wrists down above your head hard enough for you let it go. “You think I’m a monster?” He hisses, the anger that he always keeps tightly leashed out in public free to play. “I’ll show you monster.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now...you should know by now I won't make it THAT easy, right? Thank you guys for reading, and for commenting, and for kudo-ing, and...well, everything that is pushing me to actually keep writing on this. :)


	7. Your Fault

He roughly pulls you up to just roughly push you down on the marble flooring. You try to rise up, but a back handed hit knocks you back down. Options. Patterns. Why can’t you think? Why is everything a jumble of what was and what is?

 

A kick to the stomach has you curl inwards to better protect your soft insides. Another kick, this time at your head, has you curl even further inwards. You can’t escape if you are dead. Though, isn’t death the greatest of freedoms? He could never get you again if you have escaped into the unstoppable darkness. Or the burning of the light, however you want to view it.

 

A crunching sound and pain that you never though you would have to go through again radiates from you side. You try to hold back the cry, but you can’t. You haven’t had a broken rib in years, but you still remember what it feels like. You think that he would stop, but he doesn’t.

 

Mr. Hammer is angry, and you are getting the brunt of it.

 

He yanks you up by your hair and the broken bone digs into something fleshy. Something is in your mouth. Something hot and sticky with a metallic taste. You are still defiant, but the defiance is bleeding out. You are tired. Tired of living this life. Why not escape it?

 

Bucky. James.

 

Death is the easy way out. “P…please stop.” You try to tell Hammer, but it comes out more like a gurgle. Fluid in lungs. That is new. Maybe a punctured lung?

 

If so, maybe you won’t have much a choice in whether you die or not. It would totally suck to drown in your own blood after everything, just saying. Really sucky.

 

You hear something. A door slamming? Then someone yelling. Who is yelling? What’s going on? Everything is too distorted.

 

“Hammer!” A female voice, Anya?, is yelling at him. “You’re killing her.” The kicks stop, and someone with a gentler hand touches your arm. “Sovenok? Вы меня слышите?”

 

‘Can you hear me?’ You mind automatically translates, but you can’t tell her. You try to focus on her face, but somehow there are two of them.

 

Hammer’s words are interspersed with deeps breaths. “She shouldn’t have said what she did.” He blames, just like your father used to do. It’s your fault that they lost their temper. Your fault that your body was broken by his hand.

 

“She needs a Больница. Hospital.” Anya tilts your face up to better look at your eyes. “Concussion. Mr. Hammer? Please?”

 

“What?” Hammer bends down, and even in this state you can’t help but flinch away. “Concussion?” He sounds incredulous, as though what happened couldn’t have been his doing. “Hamill! Get my car.”

 

There is a flurry of movement, but it’s Mr. Hammer lifting you up in his arms. You tense up, but you don’t have the strength to get away. Every movement causes pain to lace through you. At least, until you finally give up on consciousness.

 

What’s the point in being awake? If you sleep deep enough, maybe you’ll never wake up. There’s no pain in death, right?

 

Right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for how short this is, and how long it has been coming. I'm just really not good at action scenes. Like, at all. It sounded a lot better in my head before I put it in writing. Then the other part? Didn't seem right to put with this chapter.


	8. General Ross or Justin Hammer?

Disinfectant is the first thing you notice on your journey back from oblivion. Unless death smells like bleach, you are very much alive. The next thing is the sound of someone being paged over an intercom system. You can’t quite make out what was said, but the distorted sound was very distinctive. Even more distinctive was the hand holding yours.

 

“She’s waking up.” The voice that was commonly heard in your nightmares says to someone. “Hurry. Get the doctor.”

 

The clopping sound of shoes is heard before the soft opening of a door. You don’t hear it close, but you do feel warm breath touch your cheek. It hurts to move, but you do open your eyes to look in Mr. Hammer’s. All the rage from earlier, at the time he hurt you, is gone and completely replaced with concern. If you were a psychologist, you’d wonder about his sanity.

 

Since you are his victim? Not so much, except in considering how much his insanity would harm you.

 

“Pet?” He’s gentle, and something in you wants his touch. You know how Mr. Hammer is. You’ve known him almost your whole life. “I’m really sorry. This shouldn’t have happened to you.” His thumb rubs circles into the back of your hand. “It won’t happen again. Ever again. I promise. No one will ever hurt you. Ever.”

 

The clearing of someone’s throat has him pull back from leaning over you, which you are extremely grateful for. It was hard to breath, but it had been even more difficult with his face so close to your own. “Mr. Hammer? I was told your fiancé was awake?” The person wearing white in the doorway asks as they enter, probably thinking that they were interrupting a private moment. They stand to the side as someone else comes over to start doing vitals. “Now, ma’am. There are a few agencies outside that…”

 

“No.” Hammer interrupts whatever the doctor was going to say. “We’ve been through enough. She’s been through enough.” You close your eyes a bit, not sure if you should feel relief that he’s trying to keep you from whoever is outside or not.

 

“If she can help with the investigation…” The doctor began, and you want to open your mouth, but you can’t. The pressure reminds you of something your brother described after dad punched him in the jaw. He had to have his jaw wire shut until it healed.

 

Hammer did kick near the same spot…

 

“She doesn’t know where this James person is at.” Hammer answered, his acting skills really put on for show. Or maybe he really believes whatever he is saying? “Now, tell us the diagnosis, doctor.”

 

The doctor looks between the two of you, before focusing in on you. “You have a mild concussion, a punctured lung, and a Colles’ fracture, uh broken wrist, along with various bruises. Also, while repositioning the rib we went ahead and took out your birth control. There is an infection.” The doctor looks over at Mr. Hammer. “Can you please wait outside, sir?”

 

The anger on his face has you flinch, but not too far. It hurts too much to jerk too far away. Instead of protesting like you expected, he just walks over to give a kiss on your forehead. “I’ll be just outside, sweetheart.”

 

You keep your eyes closed until he’s gone and you look back up at the doctor. “Your rape kit came back positive.” No dip. Your rapist just left the room. “You didn’t test positive for any STI’s, and we have the option for the day after pill, just in case the birth control didn’t work.” You nod, unable to give voice to anything.

 

The doctor looks back at the door before coming closer and speaking even quieter. “There are people outside who will help you, and talk with you alone, if you want to.”

 

Now that is the news you can use. Maybe someone will listen this time? You can’t escape with the wounds that you have. Not yet. You have to heal first, but if you had help? It’s a possibility that you can leave even sooner.

 

“I told you, General.” Mr. Hammer’s voice, raised voice, is loud enough so you can clearly hear it. “She knows nothing, and you will not question her. She’s my ward, employee, and fiancé. What I say, goes.”

 

A large man, at least he looks large from where you are laying down, pushes pass Mr. Hammer, much to his anger, to stand at the foot of the hospital bed. “General Ross, ma’am. I’m here to ask you some questions about your neighbor a James Buchanan Barnes, aka The Winter Soldier.”

 

This man has the same eyes as Justin Hammer. The color was different, but the look was the same. They both believed that they were doing the right thing. Truly believed it, with just a twist at the end. A part of the belief is a show, but the other part? They were believing their own lie.

 

You can’t talk to him. NO! You can’t. Even if he could help you escape Hammer he would just put you in another prison. This is the kind of man that believe in doing anything for the greater good, even doing a great evil. At what point does doing great evils for the greater good make you a great evil?

 

Really? Philosophy? Is that what your mind is grabbing ahold of while the panic is starting. It’s something, but it’s not going to work. The machines are loudly announcing what you already feel your body. The people’s raised voices aren’t helping, either.

 

“Out! Now.” The doctor yells at the two other men as you raise your hands to try to claw at your face. Why can’t you breath? Right. Panic. You have to calm down the breathing. You have to take control of your body’s reaction. You have.

 

Doctor grabbing and holding down your hands causes the panic to become even more uncontrollable. “I need a sedative in here!” More people come in. Too many people. Too many variables.

 

You just want to go home. Go home to where you felt safe. Strong arms, one metal and one flesh come to mind, but you push it away. Bucky is safe as long as you keep your mouth shut.

 

Which prison is worse? Which one? The one that you know or the unknown?

 

They stick the needle in your arm. Unlike in the movies, the drug doesn’t take effect right away. However, when it does you feel the fear start to slide away.

 

The nurses and doctor finally leaves, and you are looking at the doorway where Justin Hammer is looking straight at you, with General Ross standing just behind his left shoulder. You make a choice in that moment.

 

No outside help. Outside help would want something in return. No way are you going to bring any attention on Bucky. Never. His enemies are worse than yours. You can survive this. You can. Bucky? Bucky can’t take another mind wipe. You can deal with Hammer. You can.

 

Your arm in a cast will cause some trouble, and so will the bandaged ribs. You won’t be able to escape right now, but eventually you will be well enough to do so. And something good about being hurt? Hammer will have to be careful with you, at least enough to not cause any permanent damage. He wants you whole, for whatever reason. You have the time until you are well to come up with a better plan of escape. Maybe make him trust you? Have him let down his guard?  


That’s how you escaped at the gala. Loose security built on the trust that you wouldn’t even dare to think of running away. At that point, you didn’t even think about it as a possibility.

 

You won’t let yourself fall into that trap. You have to believe that, because what other choices do you have?

 

Bucky isn’t coming, and you don’t want him to. He’s safer with his friends. You found a way to escape last time, and this time is not different.

 

Hopefully.


	9. General Ross...Please leave

You can’t escape right away, nor can you bring in anyone to help you in your plan. No can know the truth. No one. Who knows who is in Hammer’s pocket? You don’t, and you can’t afford for him to get even a hint of disloyalty. He has to believe that you are the girl that he would let go on trips and actually leave the places completely under his control. You escaped last time because he thought you would do everything to stay with him.

That time…that time had been truth. This time wouldn’t be the same. This time you were just bidding your time for the wounds to heal. Time…time is what you needed, even if everything in you screamed to protest, to tell the world the truth, and then run as far away from this life that you could get.

But you can’t. For you to have time, you have to be silent. Hammer has to believe that he’s beaten the rebelliousness out of you. He has to.

“I told you before, General, and I’m only going to say this one more time. She knows nothing about your fugitive.” Hammer’s voice comes through the door, loud and clear. “Now leave me and mine alone.”

Another reason to stay under Hammer’s ‘protection’ while you heal. The General won’t stop. He thinks you know where Bucky is, or at least have an idea of where he could start in finding the man he thought of as The Winter Soldier. At least with Hammer, the General tries to hold back his posturing and threats. Tries.

“We have a recording of her defending James Barnes, Mr. Hammer.” The General, confidence complete in his tone, gave the information much to your dismay. You’ll probably pay for that, somehow. “Are you certain that you know everything about your fiancé? She disappeared for a long time.”

Was the General just asking for you to be killed? Seriously? Even on the run you knew better than to do whatever it was that he was implying. If Justin ever found out…that’s all you needed to know to keep away from people. If you got close, he could have them hurt, or worse, if he ever found out. Bucky… Bucky was the chance you took. Did you just put another dog on his heels?

He has enough. He has enough people. Please. Please. Don’t make it so that someone…

“There’s also record of her withdrawing a large sum of money around the time of the escape and disappearance. Are you certain that she knows nothing?” The General kept talking, which you thought he would have stopped when you left the hospital. You never would have thought he would so doggedly stay on this trail.

You have to give him some points, he was persistent, even if unwanted.

A loud bang has you grab for the door handle, but you don’t turn it. You aren’t sure what the noise is from before a female voice joins the two male voices. “With so many records, I’m sure you have the bol'nitsa, hospital, records, General.” Anya? What in the world is she doing in there?

You try the door, and silently curse in your mind. The door is locked. It was foolish to think they would trust you so soon.

The cast has yet to come off your wrist, but it was a hope that you would be able to leave the room without question. Just another barrier between yourself and freedom. You’ll get through it, eventually. Anything else? You really don’t have much of an option.

Anya’s voice is sly the next time that she speaks. “Mr. Hammer knows his fiancé quite well, and I know her near the same. I helped raise her, General.”

“I love her, General, but I’m not a fool.” Hammer spoke up, and you fight the urge to smash a fist into the door. Why is it that you always find yourself on the outside while someone else is deciding your fate, and deluding the world to how your ‘relationship’ is? “I have an idea of what those monsters that took her from me did to her.” LEFT! You want to yell, but does it really matter right now?

“She has nightmares.” Anya added, very unhelpfully. What game were they playing? Trying to make the Hammer household out to be victims? “My sovenok jumps at her own shadow, General.”

It seemed to have worked to get Hammer out of prison, which he did deserve to be in. If only they had proof of half the crap he had been involved in…

Well, you were involved in it too. It wasn’t often he didn’t want his pet to be shown off for the world to see. Hammer had wanted the world to know what his creation was capable of. While Stark had his fancy AI, Hammer had the poor orphan he had saved. Even if you hadn’t been an orphan when he first came to save you.

“My fiancé has a very bad habit of latching on to people, a survival technique from her early childhood.” Hammer kept talking, and you tensed up even more. Was he seriously using what your father did to you as a reason for everything? He was the monster that royally screwed you up, even more so than your father did. “If someone shows her even a bit of kindness, she is willing to forgive any harm that they’ve done to her. Of which I’m afraid I’ve been grateful of more times than I want to count.”

The more he talked, the angrier you got. You didn’t forgive HIM, you didn’t have a choice. He never would have let you go, and never will. You have to take your freedom from him, even though…even though what he said did make some sense. Many times you did forgive him…always finding reasons to excuse away his actions.

There may be something about cycles of abuse. Maybe. Possibly. Not that you are about to admit that to yourself. Nope. Not gonna happen.

“I don’t deserve her…” Hammer’s voice is just loud enough for you to be able to hear it. Just loud enough and nowhere near the level that it had been earlier. “She’s too kind for a man like me, and I know what monsters in this world will do to someone like her. Whatever she allegedly did, and IF she actually did it, it would be under duress. Now, please leave. Our family…Our family needs time to heal.”

Family? What family?? Family doesn’t go to a child’s bedroom for what he came to yours for. Family doesn’t use you as a pawn. Family doesn’t…

“Duress?” General Ross finally says the world, but to your ears it sounds like a question. “You mean…?”

“We don’t know.” Anya answers the question, and the implication connects the dots in your mind. “You have the hospital records, General. Is it really inconceivable that such a monster wouldn’t be capable of causing such harm after someone has lost their usefulness?”

You smash your uninjured hand into the wood door. “No!” You give the door a kick, knowing that it’ll bring attention of people that you prefer to not come back.

The door keeping you from the rest of the house is slung open and the guard that was kept not far from you holds your arms down for Anya to come racing in. “Medicine, Mr. Hammer. Hurry. She doesn’t need her ribs refractured.”

“Nightmares?” General Ross asks, and the hold has you panic and lash out even more. You ignore the pain in your side, and the needle Hammer is bringing towards you.

Hammer nods and injects it into your arm. You fight against the sedative to yell out, “Bucky’s not a monster! He save me….he saved me.”

Anya waves a hand at something, probably at your bed. “I know, sovenok. I know. Just rest. We’ll deal with it tomorrow. Rest now. Rest now.”

Rest…that sounds like a great idea. Probably just the drugs flooding your system, but you stop struggling and nod to Anya’s suggestion. Tomorrow is soon enough to deal with it. Tomorrow…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tada!!!!
> 
> Yeah.... Toni got it right. I was trying to foreshadow a bit before this one. I'm happy someone caught it.
> 
> No idea when I'm next going to post. Adulting is so annoying, and time consuming. Ugh.


	10. Wedding Plans

“Pet?” Hammer calls to you from the perfect bliss that is unconscious. “Now wake up. I want to talk to you.”

You could ignore him, but what would that accomplish? It would be easy to pretend to still be asleep, but then he’d just sit there until you woke up anyway. The only time the company needed him was in showcasing deals, at least that had been the case a few years ago. “About what, Mr. Hammer?”

His hand snaps forward and grabs your face. “Justin, Pet. Now repeat after me. Justin.” He looks into your eyes, and he was intent on this task. Looking at him, you wouldn’t think he was crazy.

But you knew better. “Justin.” You force yourself to say his name, and even though you curled it to sound like a curse, he nodded as though you were a good dog obeying an order for the first time.

“Good.” He rubs a hand down through your hair, and you pull away from the touch. His lips tighten together, but he doesn’t seek retaliation. “I forgive you for any transgressions that may have occurred during our time apart. Especially any with this James character.”

What was he talking about? “What are you talking about?” You finally ask when you get the shock a bit out of the way. 

“I said that I forgive you.” He sits back in the chair that he must have brought from somewhere else. The sedative must have really put you out of it. “It’s time to let go of the past and for the two of us to look to the future, together.”

You want to yell at him. You want to tell him just how insane this plan of his was. But you don’t. You remember The Plan. Pretty much the only plan, but it was the best you had. You had to get him to trust you, and you couldn’t get to that point by pushing him away at every overture. “What do you have in mind, Justin?” Your hand shakes when you put it over his, but he smiles at you as if you’ve just given him a piece of the sun.

His smile covers most of his face. He turns his hand to grasp yours in his. “I think we should get married. We’ve been engaged for years.”

Yeah…he’s definitely insane. However, you can play with this. Maybe. The goal is to get him to trust you. Maybe, if you go along with it, he’ll give you the opening you need so you can escape. “Small wedding, or large?”

“I think large, with a lot of security.” Hammer nods, you can’t tell if he’s playing with you or really believing what he’s saying. He tilts his head, as though imagining you in something. “The wedding dress should be more modern, instead of traditional. I want the world to know what I have.” His eyes are far too sharp for his words, and something tells you that he has a trap in mind.

Too bad that you also have one. He’ll have to let down his guard at some point during all of his preparations. “How long?” You need a timeframe. It can’t be too long, or you’ll have even more wounds to deal with. But too short…and he’ll never trust you enough to leave you alone.

“After your cast is removed.” He tells you, and you nod. That would work. He leans towards you and you pull away. Hammer is being too nice for this to not be a play. “What’s wrong, pet?”

Inside, you cringe at the nickname. On the outside? You force a smile that may or may not reach your eyes. “I…I think we should wait.” His hand was already pulling up your shirt at the point, and he does pause.

The softness in his eyes is completely gone and replaced with a controlled rage. “Why?” Controlled, as in he’s going to attack if your answer isn’t what he wants.

There are so many ways you can answer…but only one way that you can think of to keep the plan on track. “For the wedding.”

The rage is gone as quickly as it came, and he smiles at you. “Of course. Waiting will make our honeymoon that much better.” He bends forward and places his lips on yours.

Years of training have you open up for him. His tongues enters your mouth, even as the voice in your mind yells for you to stop. He has to believe that you are the same person that you were the night before you ran. Hammer has to believe that his pet is back to being completely loyal. That’s the game plan.

He pulls back, panting for breath. “Now, now, pet. You shouldn’t tease me. I’m not as young as you are.” Hammer smiles and moves around a bit. A quick glance downward to test his reaction has you quickly look back up. “A month is going to be a very long time, pet. I’ll try to be good.” He stands, ready to walk away before placing a kiss on your forehead. “Business calls. Try to get some rest. Love you.”

You nod, and force the words that you never planned on saying again. “Love you, too.” His smile grows, and his steps out the door are lighter than they were just moments before.

As soon as the door shuts, you wipe your mouth with your good hand, and then wince at a memory. Cameras. You force yourself to get on not so steady feet to walk around the room. Second step in the plan, find the cameras. You know they have to be somewhere. He cared too much about control to ever give you a moment of privacy.

Find the cameras, find the blind spots. You used to know where they were, but no one would be foolish enough to put the prisoner back without making some changes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to apologize for taking so long. I'm not as much into this story as I used to be, and it takes a while longer to get in the mood to write on it. I'm tempted to speed up the time, but not really for sure how to give layout without going slow, or giving a summary. Summarizing would be easier, but cheating, I think. I hope to have another chapter up before May 15th. 
> 
> Hope you readers enjoyed this chapter. :)


	11. Self Reflection

There were two new cameras in the room, but most of the blind spots that you found years ago were still there. You can make things without anyone knowing. You have a month to come up with a plan of escape. A month in which to put everything into place so you can disappear again.

 

You need clothing to blend in. You learned this last time. It took a while before you found something to put on before being able to get rid of the cocktail dress. You were nearly caught about five times before having a chance to blend in somewhere. Then there was jewelry. Money for travel. Money to pay off. Money for identities.

 

A least you gave yourself a month of not being touched. You’re not sure you could keep up the charade if he was coming to your room every night.

 

This time you have hiding places, and you are going to use them. Maybe not right now. Right now you needed to gain his trust, and to do the things that you would have done _before_. There’s also the things that you need to do to be ready to fight back, and to be successful this time. You aren’t going to make the same mistakes that you’ve made. No, if there are going to be any more mistakes, they have to completely new ones. Anyway, there can’t be any mistakes.

 

If you run at the wrong time, you’ll never get another chance. Hammer will tighten each hole so much that only a fly could, possibly get through them.

 

A good thing about being you, he had you trained in being that fly. You can find every hole in his security, easily. Heck, you designed most of it. The thing is that you need time. You are on the inside looking out with no idea how he has changed it. Then, there are the extra guards that you know weren’t here before.

 

Has Justin been getting into more dangerous things?

 

 _Hammer_ , a small voice inside corrects, but you ignore it.

 

Is this why Anya cares so much that you are back? Are they safe here? Who could Justin possibly have tangled in with this time? Last time he did something so foolish, you saw the aftermath on the news. What could have possibly possessed him to go and have someone so unstable creating weapons for him?

 

 _Because he didn’t have you_ , a voice that sounds suspiciously like Anya floats through your mind. You don’t ignore that one.

 

The feelings you get from that are mixed. They are twisted inside of you nearly to the point of making you ill. One part is a type of pride, while another piece is disgust. You are… _happy_ that he needs you. What’s up with that? He abused you. He hurt you. He…

 

He protected you. He kept you safe from the family you were born into. He kept you safe from the life you would have had if you had grown up in your neighborhood. He kept others from hurting you. He gave you access to anything that you could ever want.

 

 _Except for freedom_.

 

But what is the cost of safety, but of freedom? If you want to be free, there are dangers in that. When you are safe, you can’t be anywhere near free. Hobbs theory…you give up freedom for protection. Is it worth it? Is protection worth the cost of freedom, even when the person protecting can, at times, hurt you?

 

Is it worth it?

 

Justin does foolish things, and then regrets them. When he doesn’t have you to take his anger out on you, he focuses it on very self-damaging ways. That’s the only reason why he would go after Stark the way that he did, even if there had always been a type of jealousy there.

 

Justin wanted his father to talk about him like he did about Stark.

 

It’s the whole reason why you first caught his attention, at least that’s what he told you one night during pillow talk. He wanted a genius to make the weapons, because he just didn’t have the flare for it. He did have the brain for business, and for getting the right people to do the job. His weapons may not have the same flare that Stark weapons did, but he did alright because he knew where to cut the corners and when to bring up a new product.

 

At least, he usually knew where to cut corners. When he wasn’t angry with you, he would follow the exact designs that you created. Some of the most profitable weapons came from the ones that he recreated using the exact same method that you designed. The problem came whenever he was exacting punishment. He would listen to others that said that you can use a different type of metal than the one that you suggested.

 

A cheaper metal.

 

Is it your fault? Is it? Is it your fault that he cut corners when you told him, specifically, not to? Did the people that the weapons were trying to protect hurt them because you rebelled?

 

Did he come up with his crazy idea to kill, and destroy, Stark because you weren’t there for him release the frustration out?

 

No…No. Every person is responsible for their own actions. Hammer wanted to take the spot that Stark left. Hammer wanted the power that creating an Iron Man suit, without the man inside, would give him, without any of the work.

 

It’s not your fault.

 

_But it is. You should have stayed._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stolkholm syndrome!!!
> 
> Okay, maybe not how it actually works. I'm not a psychologist. I watched Beauty and the Beast, which is where a few ideas are coming from.
> 
> There is going to be a pie, at some point. I know that now.
> 
> Hope ya'll enjoyed it.
> 
> Comments are lovely, and all that jazz. I like learning where I can improve, or tell me where I need to be more obvious at. Or even just to say "GOOD JOB!". I'm a bit of a praise monkey.


	12. Diamonds and Deals

It’s about a week before you see Justin again. He’s back from some business deal, at least according to Anya. She tells you that he’s happier than she’s seen in a long time. He’s no longer in prison and he has you, his guiding star, back in his home. You’re just happy that he’s been gone. The more time you spend here, the more conflicted your emotions become.

 

This is your home. Even if bad things happen in these walls, this is where you grew up. Anya and Justin have been constants in your life while your old life fell apart. First your father died in jail, then your mother in an overdose. At last, there was your brother. He wasn’t that bad of a kid, he just came from the same neighborhood.

 

You are indebted to Justin. But have you already paid enough?

 

“Pet!” He calls from the other room, and the guard to your door goes ahead and opens it. “I have gifts! Come on down.”

 

You didn’t fight this morning when Anya picked out your sundress. You just put it on. Justin likes you wearing these kind of things. Another way of getting him to let down his guard, at least that’s what you keep telling yourself. “I’m coming.”

 

When he sees you, his smile grows even larger. Justin comes and helps down the last couple of steps. “You look beautiful today.” You smile, a small one in acceptance of the compliment.

 

Dresses are impractical, but it is something that people expect. They make you look feminine without a lot of work put into it. At least, that’s what Anya used to tell you years ago.

 

“Thank you, Justin.” You tell him, not certain what kind of gift he could be talking about. He didn’t bring in any bags that you can see.

 

He shoves a hand in his pocket, and starts babbling. “I remembered your ring size from your sixteenth birthday.” He pulls out a box, and his eyes fixate on you. “It’s why the first ring I got you fit so perfectly. Remember?” You nod. You remember the jewelry that he would give you. Usually the more flashy ones came after a night that left bruises. “When you were taken, I hired the best to find you.”

 

Not that they were able to. You had been really excited when you found out, through the news, that Justin’s assets had been frozen during an investigation. Without a promised payment, most of the people trying to find you quit at the time.

 

Most. Some had a sense of duty to finish the job.

 

He staring at the box, as though it holds all of his answers. “They never found you, but I knew they were on the right trail. You know?” Justin looks up, hopeful, you guess, that you’ll accept whatever it is that he’s trying to say. “They follows rumors later on, but at first they would bring back pieces. I got this back from a pawn shop.” He opens up the box, and your stomach churns at what’s inside.

 

You know that ring, and even though you already agreed, you were thankful to not have to be reminded every time that you looked at your hands. In your mind, it was just a deadline date put into play.

 

Justin gets down on one knee, and holds the box open for you to better see. “I didn’t do this last time, or even earlier this time. This should be done right, don’t you think?”

 

All you can do is stare at him. Is this some kind of joke? Another game to have you trust him? Is it? Does he really believe what he’s saying??

 

“Are you going to say anything?” Justin asks, and you know that you’ve been silent too long. What do you say?

 

You know what you have to say, but you still don’t want to. “I do, on one condition.”

 

He’s standing up, holding your hand to put the ring in its place. “What is it?” He’s not paying attention to what you are saying, and there’s a type of power in it.

 

You can ask for whatever you want, and he’d probably grant it, at least for a few moments before realizing what he’s doing. “I want to leave my room, unsupervised.”

 

“I can’t let you go into your lab without supervision, pet. You’re not…”

 

“I know.” You interrupt, you see the sharpness in his eyes, but you don’t back down. “I want to go to the kitchen. To make something.” His face darkens. “You can check me leaving and entering there, Justin. Please?”

 

He pulls a little bit away, thoughtful for a moment before a cunning smile takes the place of his frown. “You can only be in the kitchen alone, with only a robe for covering.” You nod, that wasn’t too difficult. “And, I get to check you going in and leaving. The room will also be searched before and after your visits by a guard.”

 

“Thank…”

 

“Don’t thank me yet.” Justin is under the surface, but the businessman is back. “I want a weapon.”

 

How can you create something when you aren’t allowed around anything? “But the lab…”

 

“You will be closely supervised, pet.” Justin’s smile was cunning, like all of the pieces of a plan were finally coming into play. “I want you to make a weapon to knock Iron Man from the sky, _and_ …” He grabs hold of you hand. “I want a way of tracking the rogue Avengers.”

 

It would be nearly impossible, but just agreeing would give you the time you would need. It would also give you access to materials that you can use. It would make Justin happy.

 

Tit for tat. You would get kitchen access, which would make being here more bearable. “Only if Anya picks up the supplies. I also need a recipe book.”

 

Justin nods, pulling you flush with him. “Taking up cooking, my pet?”

 

You nod into his chest. You fight the urge to relax into his hold until you just do. Another reason for your need of the kitchen…

 

You are forgetting who you are. You aren’t the girl that sought out Justin’s approval. You aren’t the person that was just happy to hide in their lab, creating whatever thing your master needed. You grew. You changed. You know how to defend yourself. You know what it’s like to truly be cared for, and not just as a show.

 

You know how to fight back. You know how to escape. You know how to survive. You know how to make friends. You know how…

 

But being here…it reminds you of when the only enemy you had to fear was Hammer, and he never was that bad. He loves you. He cares for you. He’s…he’s your everything.

 

No. You need to remember. You need to remember purposefully disregarding the recipes. You need to remember someone with a flesh hand and one of metal. You need to remember the person that pulled a gun on Captain-freaking-America, because you thought he was hurting your friend.

 

You need to remember who YOU are. The best place to start with that would be a pie, right? Right??

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter, THE PIE!!!
> 
> I wanted something not quite fluffy, but fluffy, to happen. All this dark stuff is kind of making me depressed.
> 
> Also, a thanks to bells_atrix for hitting the nail with her comment. I couldn't figure out exactly how to word what was going on in my head for the reader. She did a pretty good job.
> 
> A special thanks to all the people who keep on liking and commenting on here. It reminds that, just because in my head I'm further along doesn't mean I've written it down on paper. Oops.
> 
> I should respond to everyone's comments within the next day. It may be a week or two before I upload another chapter. I have a few other pieces I'm fiddling with that I've put off for a while. Another oops on my end. It happens when your muse decides to take a vacation without you.
> 
> Hope to hear everyone's opinion of this chapter! Now I'm going to go binge watch some Law&Order:SVU.  
> Enjoy!!!


	13. Apple Pie and Memories

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Warning*  
> Painful scenes ahead

It takes a few days before Anya comes to you to tell you that she has acquired a cook book for you to go through. You scan through the book before your eye catches on the apple pie recipe. You have a small smile at the memory of the avocado pie that you made based off of the apple recipe. This recipe is a little different than the one you used that time, but it was similar enough that you shouldn’t be able to mess it up.

 

Shouldn’t doesn’t mean that you won’t, except…

 

Except you remembered the lesson about following instructions until you know enough to go freelance. You remember someone coming over late at night to just bake another pie because neither of you could sleep. You remember…You remember the person that genuinely smiled at seeing Bucky covered in flour without fear that he’d teach you to never laugh at him...He just laughed (more like smirk) right with you.

 

You won’t be able to laugh with Justin watching you. You can’t even accidently poison him. (A plan, but that one was around Plan M on your list.) Instead, you have to follow the recipe with his eyes following your every move.

 

It hadn’t taken long for the delivery guy to bring the necessary ingredients, nor did it take long for Hammer to free up his schedule to accompany you to your baking session. He watched from the table they had brought in specifically for him.

 

You wear just the robe that he demanded, but the part of you that was self-conscious with his eyes on you vanished years ago. At least, you don’t feel that part yelling anymore. You aren’t sure if that’s a good thing or bad.

 

Without the voice, you can focus on other thoughts. You can focus on the dough in your hands as you knead it. You can focus on the apples as you peel them before chopping them up into bits. (If a piece of you screams for you to turn and stab the knife into the man watching you so easily, you don’t let it be heard.)

 

You are starting to feel more like the person you were before being dragged back into this life when you push the pie into the oven to bake. While standing, you feel hands on your hips that has you pause in straightening up. Hammer, who you have sort of blocked out during your preparations, is standing behind you. His hips pressed into you from behind.

 

“Never thought seeing you cook could turn me on.” His voice is lower pitched, and you close your eyes. You finish standing up and he pulls himself even closer to you.

 

You feel your body start to shake as the fear comes flooding in. “Jus…Justin. Promise.” You try to remind him, but he just pulls you over to the table to bend you over it.

 

You hear him unzip his pants, and your breathing increases. “Sorry, Pet. Can’t help it.” He tells you. He slides his leg between yours to pull them further apart. You feel his flesh touch yours. This is why you didn’t want to remember who you were.

 

Remembering just makes it worse when you have to pretend.

 

He enters you and you hear his rough breathing at the exertion of pushing you into the table. “Sorry, Pet. I’ll make it up to you. I promise.”

 

Your brain says one thing…but your body says another. As he goes in, you unconsciously push back for him to get a better angle. You cry out, a mixture of pleasure and anguish. You don’t want to feel this way, but you do.

 

He finishes and pulls out. The two parts of you fight for dominance. The girl that was trained to like every moment was telling you to forgive him. To forgive him because it’s not his fault. It’s your fault. It’s your fault that he can’t control himself.

 

The part of you that you were starting to remember? She was yelling for you to take the knife you cut up those apples with and to fight back; to no longer be a victim.

 

Problem with fighting would be the same as before. There is no way out of here. Going through one layer would just lead you into another. That’s the game.

 

So, you push her back. You push her so far back into your mind that you can barely feel a glimpse of her remaining.

 

You turn with Justin’s urging, and you look up into his face. You smile, because that’s who you need to be. You cup his face in your hands, because this is the person that he wants. “I understand.” Then, you pull him to you, and kiss him like you used to.

 

You pull away, and you see the broken person underneath. You see the man beneath the hits, the bruises, and the rapes. You see the man that looked for a talent in the rough to bring into the sun. You see the man that brought you into his home and that you owe everything to.

 

You see _Justin_.

 

“My beautiful pet.” He presses his forehead against yours, and you pull him to you. You hold his quaking body against your own. “You’re back. You’re back.”

 

Are you? You don’t know. All you know is your place.

 

Your place is by his side, just like it has always been.

 

All children rebel. That’s all your running away was. A rebellion.

 

A timer goes off, but you stay where you are. A faint memory tugs at your mind, but you ignore it. Justin needs you here. He needs you to keep him on the path. He needs you to help his company. He needs you to stick around.

 

You don’t even think to ask if you want to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At first...I was going to go major fluffy. Then...yeah. My brain decided that this had to happen. I'm thinking of speeding up the timeline a bit more, and still not for sure if I want that one potential side story line happen or not. We'll see.
> 
> Hope to hear from you readers.
> 
>  
> 
> The next update will probably be in June at some point. I'm going down a list of stories that I'm trying to update that haven't been updated in a while. There are ten stories on the list right now, so it depends on how fast I go through them all.
> 
> :)


	14. Remembering Memories

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for taking so long, folks. I had something about halfway written before deciding to scratch it and write this one instead.

Things fall into a type of routine after that. You don’t go back to the kitchen, and the small part of you that was fighting to come to the surface seems to flicker out of existence. You do whatever it is that Justin asks of you, because that’s what you do. You are his property, and it’s your job to obey.

 

At night you cling to the edge, not even dreading whenever he comes in after you have supposedly fallen asleep. Sleep is sporadic at best for you, and non-existent the rest of the time. This was the world you had before the fire of who you could be decided to be lit up again. You lived at his word. You ate at his word. You had sex at his word. You obey him, even if everything in you screams to fight back. Eventually, you don’t even think to fight back.

 

The memories of freedom fade into the background. At the marriage ceremony, you smiled when you were supposed to and tried your best to believe that this was the right thing. You had to believe that things were going to get better, even if nothing points to it. The time away from Justin fades into a distant memory, like that of a dream that didn’t have enough time to completely form.

 

Everything is in a fog.

 

The morning light shines in the room you share with your master. You get up, knowing that is what is expected of you. You don’t want to be punished. You don’t want to be bound any more than you already are. The more you obey, the longer the leash he has on you lengthens.

 

You have a faint thought about a plan to escape that involved such pieces, but it’s easily pushed to the side. Why would you ever want to leave? This is your home. This is your life. There is nothing out there for you. Nothing.

 

The looks Anya sends your way change from something of glee to somewhere around pity. Why does she pity you? You have everything that anyone could ever possibly want. You have a home. You have a husband. You have a purpose.

 

The software you designed to hunt down the criminal Avengers was getting closer and closer at pinpointing them whenever they came on any camera. Soon enough, General Ross would be able to bring them in for justice to be served.

 

You question that line of thinking for a moment, but push it to the side. Your job isn’t to question orders, but to obey them. Master wanted a way to track the rogue Avengers, and that’s what you gave him. He ordered a way to knock Iron Man from the sky. Theoretically, the weapon sitting on the bench in your lab should do the trick. Theoretically, because Iron Man hasn’t flown within range since it’s finished product a month ago.

 

The gene killing bullet was in the starting stages of being developed, but it will be a great boost for Master. The government will pay a lot for such a weapon, and Master will be pleased at that. Master’s pleasure is what you need. When he is pleased, you don’t have to worry about being punished because of a failure. You don’t have to…

 

Master won’t be pleased.

 

Projects are falling behind. You can’t go down to the lab. The smells make it so you keep getting sick. The smell of cooking meat causes you to run somewhere to vomit. You don’t know what’s going on, but you fear the punishment whenever he gets back from his trip. This isn’t the time line that he wants. The Avengers are finding holes in the software that you designed, and you can’t bring yourself to figure out the holes yourself. It’s harder to stay awake.

 

Anya’s looks of pity are even worse, and you are starting to wonder which is worse. Anya’s looks, or the fear of what is going to happen whenever Hammer gets back.

 

Master. Whenever Master gets back. He’s selling guns to the highest bidder at some auction that you’d rather not know about. You don’t want to know. You don’t want to…

 

You pass out at your lab table to wake up on your bed with Anya standing over you. “Owlet? I called for the doctor. Are you alright?”

 

Your eyes chase around the room before coming to rest on an unfamiliar person standing in the room. “Anya? What happened?” You ask her, ignoring whoever the other person was.

 

“You fainted, sovenok.” Anya gently lays a hand on your forehead. “You worried me. You have been working too hard.”

 

The stranger in the midst steps out of the shadows and while your brain wants to make connections, the fog layering over everything keeps your face blank. “A lot of things have gone lapse in my absence, Anya.”

 

She smiles at you, the pity from earlier mostly gone. “I know, sovenok. I know. But still. It is why I called the doctor.” Anya steps away as the doctor and who you guess is his nurse steps closer to your bed.

 

The connections start to finally conclude as Anya says something about letting the doctor take bloodwork and worrying for you. They look familiar. Why do they look familiar? It’s like trying to remember a dream. None of the piece completely fit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you readers enjoyed this chapter. I'm going to ask for a bit of feedback before moving forward in the story. I have a few ideas, but I'm not certain which ones I want to play around with and which ones to just throw off to the side.
> 
> I have a few questions, and the answers I get would help me in deciding which paths to follow down.
> 
> Who do you think are the doctor and his nurse?  
> Why did the character faint?  
> Is anybody interested in a Reader&Tony Stark conversation?
> 
> I'm going to give it about a week or so after posting this chapter before moving forward. I have the original plotline set up, but I'm not entirely certain if that's the route I want to go at the moment or not.
> 
> Feedback is a blast for me, even if you don't feel like answering any of those questions.


	15. Visitors with a Mission

Pieces start to slot into place. Photographs. Patterns. Pet project.

 

You remember the doctor from a photograph that you had spread across a short and very much stained coffee table. Something in the news had clicked a memory dealing with power structures and methods of control. The easiest way to control a populace is to make them believe that there was a threat. The easiest way to control a powerful force was to turn the ones that they were protecting against them. Power plays.

 

The common thread was General Ross, and yet it wasn’t. You know the man truly believes that he is protecting the people in controlling the perceived threat. No, whoever was doing the manipulating would have to be someone behind the scenes. Someone who has the capability to edit facts before anyone else had the chance. Bias. Publicity.

 

You had been close to figuring out a pattern whenever you saw the photograph in passing. Dr. Bruce Banner, aka The Hulk, was labelled as a victim in the web. The Hulk was a loose cannon that needed to be controlled, and the government cannot afford for there to be loose cannons. Loose cannons are only good when aimed at the threats that they are supposed to be getting rid of; not when there’s a chance that they can turn back around.

 

Law and order are well and good, but any institution can be twisted to fit certain individual ideals that can potentially prey on the weaker members, or even outliers. Dirty cops. Crooked politicians. The system only works so far.

 

‘We pick up where the law leaves off.’

 

Another way of saying that illegal things are going on. However, that’s not what this journey down memory lane this is about it. The photograph…

 

Dr. Banner puts on a reassuring smile before asking Anya to go ahead and wait outside. She agrees after you nod. Anya serves Hammer, but serves you second. Unless specifically told not to leave you alone, she will let you be if you deliver the order.

 

“I love taking pictures this time of year, don’t you?” The nurse, Bucky’s redhead friend, asks in passing. You can faintly make out a small black remote in her left hand.

 

You don’t know if Black Widow enjoys taking photographs or not, but it seemed to be a code; a question as to if you are being monitored. “I prefer video. It captures all the visual and audio.” You give the answer, careful to keep looking at her and none of the hidden cameras in the room.

 

The friend nods before pushing a button on the remote. “We have thirty seconds.” She tells Dr. Banner who keeps doing what he was doing beforehand. “Do you know where Spiderman is?”

 

“You’ve got to be joking.” You answer as Banner tests the wrist that healed not that long ago. He must have seen you wince because he stops after one twist before looking at you with a curious expression. “The only people in this house are Anya, Mast…Mr. Hammer, some security guards, and randomly the gardener from time to time. There are no people who dress in spandex running around.”

 

The calculating look in…Natalia’s eyes matches the one that you remember being in a dark eyed man’s. “What were you going to call Justin Hammer?”

 

You press your lips together and look at her defiantly. No one has the right to judge Master. No one should question Master’s dealings. No one…

 

“When did he last hit you?” Banner asks, and your line of thinking stops. You look away from both of their gazes, unwilling to meet either one.

 

It takes you about three seconds to decide. “Two days ago. I was falling behind on a project for him. One of the side ones.”

 

“What is this side project?” Natalia follows the line of questioning without blinking an eye. You know that she is counting down the seconds the same that you were doing.

 

You may not be an assassin or whatever she considers herself, but you can count down the time same as most people. Maybe just a bit more accurately when the situation called for it. “Spider venom and its effectiveness as a short-term enhancement for soldiers.”

 

“They have the kid.” Banner voices the conclusion just as your mind connects the dots and you look at both with confusion.

 

Impossible. Master would never take…

 

Justin took you.

 

Spiderman. The kid from the alleyway. “He tried to help.” You voice out the words in your mind, interrupting the near silent argument that the two Avengers had been having. “Spiderman.” You answer their confused expressions (or what you assume is confusion). “In the alleyway when…when I was repossessed. He tried to help. He passed out. Promises. Word.” You shake your head, trying to keep everything straight. Two different beliefs are fighting to gain control, something which hasn’t happened for a while.

 

“We can’t leave her here.” Banner tells Natalia, and she shakes her head. Your mind supplies 7 seconds until whatever they did stops working on the cameras.

 

They don’t have time to argue, but they do. “No, Bruce. This is the entrance we’ve been looking for. She can find him and give us the information. This won’t be the last time a doctor will need to be called.”

 

You flinch at the reminder that no matter how careful you are, there will always be something that will upset Master. You will leave something in the wrong spot. He’ll have a bad and you’ll make it worse. Deadlines won’t be kept. The food will be burnt. Something.

 

“You are asking her to risk her life, Natasha.” Banner argues, and the ticking clock in your mind starts to increase in volume. If Hammer finds out that anything happened to the cameras?

 

No. No. No. You can’t let that happen.

 

However, you do have a debt to pay.

 

“I’ll find the kid.” You catch yourself answering, just to hurry this along. “On your follow-up visit I can tell you where he is. Okay?”

 

Two seconds.

 

Banner looks about to say something else, but Natalia squeezes his arm in a silent command of silence.

 

Zero seconds.

 

You are out of time for this conversation to go unrecorded. You ignore the looks that Dr. Banner give you, and accept the hug that Justin gives you as he runs in just before they leave.

 

You can’t help but look their way. You won’t leave. This is your home. This is where you belong. Master owns you. You owe Master everything.

 

Spiderman doesn’t belong here. He’s a person and people aren’t experiments. People aren’t projects or numbers. People aren’t animals. People are…people.

 

He helped you, or at least tried to. The least you can do is give a helping hand to his friends trying to give him freedom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've decided on my path for the next few chapters. Sorry for taking so long, folks. Just trying to get a few of the bugs out.
> 
> Hope to hear from you readers soon, and thanks for the input guys.


	16. Saving Spiderman: Part 1

It’s not as easy as opening a few doors and poking your head in. It takes time to come up with a plan without Master figuring it out. It’s…strange. Strange to be planning something without going to Master for permission. This is something that Master will not be pleased about if the pieces of the plan finally come together to make the goal a reality. No, Master will not be pleased.

 

You’ll be punished, but that’s the cost.

 

You owe the kid, even if it had been foolish of him to think that he could keep Master’s property away from Master.

 

Instead of treating the side project as a side project, you start doing more research into it than in the main one. This may not be your field of expertise, but if you show effort it may just work for Master. He’s still away on his trip, which isn’t what your plan has in place. No. He needs to be the one to show you the room. Looking through each and every room will take forever, and give him a heads up that you’re looking for something. You can’t do anything too out of normal, or he’ll suspect something is up.

 

While punishing you won’t be the worst thing to happen, it is on your list of fears. The greatest on being that he’ll move the subject off grounds. You only have free range within a small area, supervised in others, and restricted for all others. You can’t leave Master’s home. A small price to pay, you think, for your earlier disobedience.

 

Master lost you for a long time the last time you were allowed to leave the grounds. It was only understandable for him to be so concerned of losing his property again. Understandable, even if it could be a hindrance at time for your work.

 

You rearranged all of your projects. The new time tables were different, with the spider venom one being the one with the smaller time frame. By appearances, it’ll look as though you just had an epiphany that you wanted to explore. There may be something for very short-term effects for spider venom…depending on the spider’s venom.

 

You follow that line of thinking. Maybe, potentially, you can give a real reason for the time table being changed whenever Master asks about it. He will ask, you know. Master asks about everything, even if he already knows the answer. He does so to try to catch the others in a lie.

 

You hope and pray to anyone or thing out there that could be listening that he doesn’t suspect this lie until afterwards.

 

He finally comes home during an afternoon while you are in the lab, looking at the latest results from a test you ran on the venom in stock. It was promising, but didn’t quite match the makeup that was found in the DNA sample of the supposed enhanced soldier who experimented on himself in his mom’s basement. Which you originally considered a very bad government cover up, but may have to slightly rethink considering who the soldier really is.

 

Your life is really going in strange directions as of late.

 

Arms wrap around you from above. Master leans over you so his mouth is about a centimeter away from your ear. “Working on something good, Pet?”

 

You turn the paper that you had been looking over so he can get a better look. “The spider venom project. I thought finding the specific spider that created the results would be a better option than merely trying to re-create the venom. Skip a step or so.”

 

“Getting close?” He asks you and you take it as the test that it was. He already knows the answer to his question, but wants to know how honest you will be.

 

Or maybe…maybe he really doesn’t know? “Sort of. I’m finding some close but nothing quite exact.” Now was the time to push for more information. “I’d like to get some more samples, and wouldn’t mind getting some more information about the subject.”

 

His hand tenses where he had subconsciously wrapped his fingers around your upper arm. “What kind of information?”

 

You are careful not to flinch or tense. “About the spider and the enhancements.”

 

“You have the file.” He keeps close to you, and lying feels so wrong. Justin is your master, you aren’t supposed to lie to your master. You are supposed to tell the master the truth in all things, and to keep him safe in every aspect.

 

Freeing Spiderman wouldn’t keep him safe. He would have another enemy free to cause mayhem. Cause…Because it only makes sense for someone to see their protector as an enemy if they’ve never had need of one beforehand.

 

You nod at his response. It is true. Whoever questioned the kid knew how to do it, except there were some things that didn’t quite add up with whatever the kid said. “I know, Justin. I just… The file looks empty to me. I have some questions that weren’t asked and I would like to have the answer to.”

 

“What are the questions?” Master asks, and you close your eyes for a moment to remind yourself that he couldn’t possibly know. The plan needs you to know the physical location, and you won’t be able to do that without knowing for a certainty where he is.

 

You open your eyes as pieces finally float into place. “Different kinds. Some are what the spider looked like. Others involve the enhancements. I need to know all of the side effects, even the undesirable ones that the soldier probably wouldn’t have mentioned in an interview.”

 

He kisses your neck, whatever perceived infraction forgiven. “What about the samples, pet?” He nibbles on your ear and you tilt your head so he can get better access.

 

“I don’t know how, or where, they were obtained from the subject.” You ignore whatever it is that Master is doing. Your body is his to do with as he commands, even when he doesn’t wish for you to participate. The job is to get the information to give to both Natasha and Banner.

 

They can come and get the kid. Then things will go back to normal. Things will go back to the way that they always have been.

 

_“Don’t do that.”_

_“What?”_

_“Hide behind obedience. You have fire in you. Don’t…don’t try to hide it.”_

“Alright.” Master’s voice pulls you back and out of memories best left alone. “You can gather your samples and ask your questions. The subject is contained, so he won’t be a threat to you.”

 

His lips are close enough to tickle your neck every time that he speaks. “When?” You ask, still not reacting to his ministrations.

 

He bites down just enough that you know that a mark will be left. “Later.” He growls out, pulling you around and up out of your chair. Master pulls you even closer to him so that the two of you are flush together. “I need my Pet. Now. Right now.”

 

Master doesn’t want you naked this time. The floor is cold on your back even through the layers of clothing. He gives kisses and bites, trying to get something out of you that you don’t understand. You were trained to obey phrases, not touches.

 

“Love.” He pants out between desperate thrusts. “Please, Pet. Let me…”

 

The words aren’t in the usual pattern, but you know what he wants. He’s wanting you to be more than a doll for him to get pleasure from. Master wants you to want his ministrations instead of merely tolerating them.

 

“I’m here.” You tell him, wrapping arms around him to hold him close. “You can. I’m yours.”

 

_“Justin Hammer’s fiancé. I’m sure you have heard the news.”_

_“I’m nothing of his.”_

“Mine.” Hammer pants out. “Mine.” The declaration causes your stomach to twist inside, but you hold back the feeling of nausea. This is your life. Master is being gentle, which is something that he doesn’t have to be.

 

_“I’m nothing of his.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tada! Another chapter.
> 
> I'm going slow with my works. Just a paragraph or so at a time. It means there is more space between updates, at least until I have super writing attacks in which I just keep going until the story lets go. :)
> 
> Hope you guys are enjoying it so far. I have an idea for the next one, but I'm trying to figure out how quick I want to go. The speed determines what happens in the next chapter.


	17. To the Room

Afterwards you straighten up your clothing and follow behind Master. Every so often he turns back and smiles at you as if you are prize that he finally will get to show off. Or he’s about to show off another prize to you. You are obeying him, but you know that soon enough you will have to act and change that look to something else. You gave your word to Banner and Natalia. You are going to help them get their friend out.

 

At least, you are going to give them the information they’ll need to get him out.

 

You take careful note of which hallways Justin leads you down, and even more notice of the key he pulls out of his pocket to unlock the door. Any information that you can give them can help them out in saving the kid. That’s what this was all about. The sooner you gave them what they wanted, the sooner they’ll leave Master alone. The sooner Master is left alone, the sooner his attention will move somewhere else instead of on you.

 

Hopefully, even if it has never happened before.

 

“What do you think, Pet?” Justin waves his arm out, as though presenting a prize for the world to see. There, strapped down to what looks like an observation table, is a near naked boy. Man. Teen. Somewhere around that.

 

The kid grimaces as the lights flash on directly over his head. “Blinding me is so not cool, man.” The voice…how long could they have had him for him to look so different?

 

“Shut it.” Hammer demands, his eyes still soft when he looks at you. Even if he grows angry, most likely the anger will not be taken out on you.

 

You don’t find that as reassuring a thought as it sounds.

 

“Why don’t you…”

 

You have an idea where the kid’s smart mouth was going to take him, and an even better idea of what Hammer will do if the words are spoken. “Justin…” You put a hand on his arm, the muscles relaxing a bit under the touch. “How long have you had him?” You ask the first question that comes to mind. Hopefully that’ll get him to focus on you and not the teen.

 

Justin’s attention is completely on you, even as the teen finishes whatever comment he’d started to make. “I acquired it about the same time you were returned to me.” He pushes back your hair and something inside of you twists.

 

They lied.

 

You force a smile and reach up to hold his hand to your cheek. You hold his gaze for a moment before he comes close enough to place a chaste kiss to your lips. “One of my favorite days, pet. Second only to when I first got you.”

 

You smile at him, careful at showing only adoration. The anger would solve nothing. The betrayal? Even less. Master always got what he wanted, no matter what rules stood in his way. No matter WHO stood in his way.

 

His phone suddenly started ringing and a stray thought floated through your mind about how this room wasn’t under the blanket cell phone jammer like most of the house. “Yes? Okay. I’ll be there.” He quickly hung up the phone to give you another kiss. “I have to go, Pet. Think you can deal with the subject on your own?”

 

You take a second to glance over at the still fuming teen. Something inside of you started to flutter and you looked back at Hammer with an edge to your smile that if he had been more aware he would have noticed. “Of course. He is secured, correct?”

 

He stares at you with a proud look on his face. “Course. I wouldn’t have brought you in here otherwise. I’m the only one with the key to get him out.”

 

Justin gives you a quick peck on the head before he leaves. You don’t turn around until after you hear the door shut behind you. Instead of looking at the teen strapped down, you look around the place to make note of any cameras or listening devices. You notice two and made a mental note of their location and potential range of sight.

 

Any information is useful. Who knows when it could be needed.

 

Eventually you focus on the kid. You notice the bruises and you recognize the shape of a few of them. No wonder Hammer has been more mellow than usual lately. “What’s your name?” You ask of him, not moving any closer than where you’ve been standing.

 

The kid won’t look your way. “Should be in your file.” After all of the blustering with Hammer being in the room, you guess he was trying to rebel the only way that he could. Child.

 

“I’d like for you to tell me.” You tell him, and finally he looks your way.

 

“Ah, no.” The kid looks at you as if something close to him just died. “I hoped you got away…”


	18. Talking with The Prisoner

“I hoped you got away…”

 

How can you respond to that? How can you tell the kid that you put down your weapons specifically so that _he_ would be left alone in his freedom? How can you tell him that while he was there, most likely being beaten by the fading bruises that you can see, that you were suppressing every piece of yourself that dared to fight back? That you stayed…

 

Looking back, the voice in your mind that always had been yelling to fight back starts pointing out openings that you could have taken. You could have left. You could have escaped nearly every time Hammer left for the past few months. You could have…

 

But you wouldn’t be here. You wouldn’t be in this position to help the person that got captured trying to save you, no matter how foolish his thinking had been.

 

“Hope is a funny thing.” You eventually settle on, pushing aside the rebellious voice telling you that it was time. “It rings false as often as it does true.” You ignore the way his face crunches up as though he just tasted something bad. “Now, what is your name?”

 

Rebelling wouldn’t solve anything. And leaving? You mentally laugh at the idea that had been there just moments ago. Master would have just hunted you down and brought you back. There is no one out there to care, or to help, even if you had broken free long enough to call. Master is the only one to care. Master…

 

_“Don’t hide behind obedience.”_

 

You really wish that male voice would stop echoing in your mind. It confuses you, just as the anger at knowing Master was letting his anger out on the very person that you had decided to help leave this place to join his friend on the outside. Even you don’t know why they would want to deal with the evils on the outside.

 

Master cares, even in his punishments.

 

The kid looks like he’s fighting with himself before settling into a neutral face, as though he’s already decided. “Spiderman.”

 

You suppress a smile, at least you try to. At the smirk he broadly wears, you guess that you didn’t do that great of a job. “Birth name, not codename. Also, before you try giving me a false one, remember,” here you hold up the file for him to see, “I have your file.”

 

His smirk quickly vanishes, and he reminds you of the kid that he actually is beneath the false bluster. “No. I’m not telling you that.”

 

You can easily get a photograph of the subject and use a few back-door methods to run his face through quite a few systems, which most likely would give you his real name. However, today is not the day for loyalty to Master. Today is loyalty to your word. You don’t need to know his name, because Banner and Natalia hadn’t asked for that. They had asked for location. Now you have it.

 

You glance down at the files before putting it off to the side. “Well, Spiderman, you have a name that I can call you?”

 

He glances down to the side before looking up, pointedly looking straight into your eyes. “Wilson.” As soon as the name leaves his mouth, he suddenly glances away. Lie. At least, he has never been called that before.

 

“Wilson.” You say the name out loud with a shrug. It doesn’t really matter to you what he would prefer to be called. “How long have you been enhanced?” You read the question from memory. It was one of the questions you wrote down to help you convince Master to let you come and see the subject. Which hadn’t been needed, but had been part of your plan. A contingency, if you will.

 

The kid stares at you as if you are insane. “Enhanced?” He doesn’t wait for you to respond before seemingly pulling his next question out of the thin air. “What happened to you?”

 

“Come again?” You catch yourself asking at the venom in his voice. That wasn’t a question that you were expecting. Honestly, you hadn’t expected him to ask anything.

 

Why would he? You are just Master’s Pet.

 

You watch as what you perceive as anger in the way his face has contorted. “What. Happened. To. You. The person I met in the alley wouldn’t be doing this... _monster’s_ work for him.”

 

“You don’t know me.” You give the defensive statement without thought, automatically lashing out with the first words that came to mind. “Now…how long have you been enhanced?” You go back to the question, merely for stubbornness sake.

 

“I know the person that went down an alleyway to reduce the number of civilian casualties.” He gives the snide comment with the ring of truth that you try to pretend isn’t there. “And I know someone that does _that_ wouldn’t leave me here to be experimented on.”

 

It’s a verbal slap, or more like a verbal bullet in how it hits your emotions and memories. “I didn’t know…” You whisper out, trying to get the constantly whirlwind emotions back under control. Most days the mood swings were able to be controlled and ignored.

 

“Know what?” He asks, and some of the anger seems to be gone from his voice. This wasn’t what you planned on happening. This wasn’t…

 

Master was just supposed to hurt you. That was how it worked. Master came back home from a bad day and you let him let go of his anger. You care for him, like a good Pet is supposed to do.

 

But you are a person, even if you forget it some days. So sometimes you believe things that aren’t truth. Sometimes you have to re-evaluate a situation.

 

Master had extended his anger to another person. He had imprisoned another individual, or at least got the individual from someone else. This was…This was too much like the time Master brought you to work on a machine that you couldn’t hope to completely understand in the time frame you had been given. This was like the time you saw a man with long black hair frozen in a container, and you asked how it was possible for a human to stay alive when they mentioned unfreezing him for use.

 

This…memories…

 

You push them back, just like you’ve done with so many other memories that threatened to make your brain overwhelm if you think too much about them. “I didn’t know. I didn’t know that Master had you. I didn’t know you were here. I didn’t know.”

 

The boy just looks at you, as if choosing if he should or how he would respond to that. You expect anger. You expect a comment like ‘How didn’t you know?’ or some variation of that. What you don’t expect is for him to question a wording choice.

 

“ _Master?_ ”


	19. Let's Talk, Wilson

“Yes, Master.” You explain, still not completely sure what his expression was of. “Justin. Justin Hammer.” You give more information, but still his expression doesn’t change. “He’s been my Master for a long time.”

 

He keeps staring for a moment longer before bursting out with, “You’re insane.”

 

Now that was unexpected. “I’m not crazy.” You tell him, but he doesn’t look convinced. Giving up for now, you go back to what he interrupted. “I really thought they left you behind, Wilson. I’m really sorry that they got brought you here. I know how Master likes to treat acquisitions.”

 

“Crazy.” The boy insists, but stops from going further into it. He doesn’t speak for a while, but you are willing to wait out the silence, for now. “Why…No, wait. How long have you been here?”

 

You sit down on the floor, making a mental note that you’ll have to bring in a chair at some point if this is going to be a common thing. “I was brought back to Master by Doctor Doom right after our rebellion in the alley.” You tell him, calm in a way that you hadn’t been when you were first brought back home.

 

_“Darling, someone like that doesn’t love you. He loves **controlling** you. There’s a difference.”_

 

Annie Croix, your mind supplies the name of the person that told you that not long after you first left. She had been a friend, sort of. More like an older lady that had been able to pull stories from you no matter how hard you tried not to tell them. That had been her advice after you told her you didn’t know if leaving Hammer had been the right idea.

 

He let out a snort, but didn’t try to chance your choice of wording in the case at least. “Only about a year. Closer to two.” He answers a question that you’ve completely forgotten about asking, or more like answering when you thought he wouldn’t.

 

“What?” You look up at him and at the bruises that had you feel a mixture of regret, anger, and relief. The relief had guilt thrown in as well. How can you be relieved about someone else taking punishments that you were supposed to take? At least without feeling a little bit of guilt about it?

 

The kid’s expression turns a bit a softer for some reason the longer he looks at you. “How long I’ve been ‘enhanced’.” Even without using fingers for quotation marks, they were obvious in his voice. “Said you needed it for your files, right?”

 

You nod, not completely sure where this trust was coming from. Or why. At least it will be something for you to tell Master so that he’ll let you journey back. “Correct.” You glance down at the paper in front of you, but you don’t write down his answer.

 

You wonder about telling him about his friends, but quickly push that thought aside with a glance at the camera’s and their angles. Even without there being microphones in the room, with the right person Master could learn everything.

 

_“I got ya’, mama. I got ya’.”_

“Why are you coming in here now?” The kid, Wilson, comments and draws you away from the remembered voices of people beyond helping you now. “I’ve been here for months. Why now?”

 

You look at his hopeful expression, but you take time to decide what to say. You can’t tell the kid, not yet. However, there was another reason that you could give that Master wouldn’t think too much about. “A project I’ve been assigned.” You try to keep your tone light, and as close to the truth as you can get without giving too much away. “It is about enhancing soldiers by using venom. Master…Mr. Hammer,” you quickly change at the way the kid’s face started to darken, “he believes that there is a way recreate a version of the Super Soldier serum, or at least something similar enough to it to make a profit from the military.” You fiddle with the pen, looking away from the kid as you turn the pen back and forth.

 

_“You made a weapon out of a pen?”_

 

A pen was already a weapon in the right hands. Pointed. Spring loaded. Most people already could use a pen similar to a knife-ish. Similar, but not quite. Best for stabbing, not slicing.

 

You start to bend a piece of the metal when the kid pulls you from your thoughts. “Darn it.” He hisses out, and the idea of changing the pen from a pen flees you and you go back to where the kid is turning a little bit red around the tips of his ears.

 

“What?” You carefully place the pen back down, pushing away the thought that you could fight your way. What would Master do if he saw you were making weapons out of ordinary items again? He would take away another privilege, you fear.

 

You keep your attention on the now, and not on the remembered voices of people long gone. “Me. The idiot is trying to recreate what happened to me.” The kid pulls on the straps, desperately trying to free himself.

 

That can’t happen. If the kid proves that he can weaken the bonds, Master might move him. If Master moves him, the kid’s friends can’t come to get him out. No. No. No.

 

You hurry to his side and reach out a hand to touch his arms. “Stop it.” You hiss out, glancing at the cameras in fear. Sometimes Hammer liked to watch you without him around just for fun. Or have one of the guards do so.

 

No privacy.

 

The kid looks at you as the fear goes away and sanity starts to return. Or at least an angry sort of sanity, if such a thing can be described. “Why? Do you have any idea what will happen if he gets what he wants?”

 

Mentally, you go through the cameras and sigh to yourself. At this angle, there is no clear picture of the kid’s face. No way for them to know what the kid was saying. “Yes.” You say it through gritted teeth, trying to keep your lips from moving as much as possible. “But listen to me. I’m the one in charge of the study.” He focuses on you, and you hope that what you are seeing is some sort of trust or hope, and not the rebellion that you fear. “Understand? They’ll only know what I give them.”

 

The kid gives a short nod before you step further away. No reason to have Master believe something other than what was occurring was occurring. Master was prone to random outbursts of anger at any perceived threat to his dominance.

 

A knock on the door has you turn, quickly pulling on a mask that you are pretty certain has more holes in it than you would like. “Sovenok?” Anya stands there, looking at you and pointedly ignoring the strapped down kid behind you. “Mr. Hammer would like you to join him for dinner. He said for you to wear something nice.”

 

You smile as much as your churning stomach would let you. “I’ll meet you in my room, Anya. I’m sure whatever you pick will be fine.” Anya leaves and you touch your stomach as the idea of food makes it churn. You hardly ever want to eat anymore. “Wilson?” You call to the kid, who looks at you as if you are crazy for a moment before realizing that you are talking to him. Definitely a fake name. “I’ll try to come as soon as I can.”

 

You don’t wait for his response before you leave. The door locks into place behind you. Another barrier. You’ll have to remember that.


	20. Dinner and News

Anya picked out one of the sundresses that Hammer is so fond of. You merely shrug whenever she holds up a bright yellow one that, to you, looks more like someone decided that banana yellow was a great color mixed with a bit of algae. Not a color that you would pick for yourself, but it was something that would make you look sweet and innocent.

 

Just the way Hammer liked to think of you.

 

Hammer, not Master. Master likes you groveling at his feet and trying on gags. He likes to dominate and control every aspect. Hammer…Hammer likes to think that he’s protecting you.

 

Master. Hammer. Justin.

 

You go down the stairs and smile, because that’s what you always do. You always smile, happy to see that your Master is home. You obey him, and you love him, because that’s what you are supposed to do. He’s not a bad man.

 

_“He’s a good man. Sometimes he just can’t…”_

_“Does he hit you?”_

_“What? What does…”_

_“Does he hit you?”_

_“Yes…”_

_“Then saying he’s a good man is the same as saying Hitler was one.”_

_“I don’t understand.”_

_“Hitler was a good guy. A great guy, but only if you pretend that he didn’t try to wipe out an entire race of people.”_

“Beautiful.” Hammer tells you. He pulls out your seat and gently lays his hands on your shoulder. “You look wonderful, Pet.” He tells you as though telling a secret that only he gets to know.

 

Like you said, he’s not always bad. “Thank you.” You tell him, going ahead and taking the seat as he gives a little bit of pressure on your shoulder to let you know that’s what he wants. Sometimes, instead of hurting you, he does do nice things.

 

_“That man you left? He’s only a good guy, nice guy, if you pretend that he doesn’t hit you every time something makes him angry.”_

“I had the cook make your favorite.” Master, Hammer, tells you like a child at Christmas. He’s excited about something, but you don’t know what could possibly make him be in this good of a mood.

 

You give him a bland smile, but go ahead and try to eat the food put in front of you. It all tastes just a little bit off, but not enough that you have to go and throw it back up right away. Whatever was going on with your stomach seemed to be a little less temperamental now, especially if you avoid any really strong smells.

 

Hammer watches you as you eat each bite. You know this because every time you look back up he’s watching you with that same satisfied smile on his face. He knows something.

 

You think of the boy locked in the room, and the two people that came to try to get him. You think of your spot in the plan and the food tastes even more like dust. Could he know? How could he know? Is Master merely playing with you? Is he…Is he just playing a part until…Until…

 

No. It has to be something from that phone call. Something from work. Maybe a business deal came through that he wasn’t sure about. That has to be it. Has to be.

 

“Something wrong, Pet?” Hammer asks, and you force yourself to go ahead and swallow the bite that you had in your mouth, even if you just want to spit it out.

 

You shake your head ‘no’. “Nothing, Master. Nothing.” You answer, keeping your voice soft so as to not make him angry.

 

Even if he did figure out what Natalia and Banner asked you to do, it wasn’t the end of everything. You’ll just have to be smarter about it. The kid, Wilson, wants to be free. No one is someone else’s property. No one.

 

Hammer touching your hand nearly has you jump. Nearly, because years of being under his roof have taught you at least one thing really well. Always be aware of what clues you are giving away. “You know you can always tell me if something is wrong, right?” Hammer asks you, looking for all the world like an earnest puppy.

 

“Yes, sir.” You tell him with a nod, even if you know that wasn’t completely true. You could always tell him whatever was bothering you, but it didn’t mean he wouldn’t lash out with a fist.

 

“Good.” Master tells you before taking a bite of his meal. “I have some good news to tell you, Pet. Your blood work came back.”

 

You hide the burst of hope and nervousness by keeping your eyes on the half-eaten food on your plate. “Then the doctor will be back soon with the results?” Now that you know where the kid is, you can tell them and they can be the ones to deal with it.

 

_Even if you’ll be left behind._

 

The words that you think upset you, even if you cannot completely understand why. You don’t want to leave master, do you? Do you want to stay underneath his roof? Under his protection?

 

_What protection? From him?_

“No.” Hammer tells you in an offhand manner, but everything turns to ice inside of your veins. This wasn’t part of the plan. No. He can’t not invite them back. They need to come back. They have to come back. You told them that you’ll help them get the kid. They can’t leave the kid. No. They can’t leave him to be punished. The kid doesn’t know how to keep his mouth shut.

 

You hear the scraping of a chair, and glance up to where Hammer is not walking over to your side of the table. He squats down so that he looks up into your down cast eyes. His expression…his face says great news but all you can feel is trepidation. He is too excited.

 

“Sweetheart. Pet.” He reaches out and touches your arms just above your wrists. “It’s good news. It really is.” His smile grows even larger on his face, which you didn’t think could be possible. “We’re going to have a family.”

 

You stare, your mind coming to conclusions that you really didn’t want to go to. Impossible. “What are you talking about?” You finally stammer out, trying to figure another reason.

 

Maybe he decided he wanted a dog? Or something? Anything? Anything that isn’t what you fear and causes your hands to shake in dread.

 

“The test results, Pet.” He flexes his fingers and your mind goes from how much damage he could do when he really wanted to make a point, and to how the hits seemed to have lessened. “We’re going to have a baby. You're pregnant.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry folks that it's been awhile. I'm trying to keep to a schedule to that there will at least be somewhat of a regular update schedule.


	21. Finding Your Footing on Moving Ground

“Isn’t it great?” Hammer asks, stars in his eyes. “We’ll have our little one to raise.”

 

If he was any more observant, he would have noticed how your smile trembled. “Great. Wonderful.” You tell him, swallowing down the terror that is causing your insides to start to quake.

 

He stands up, taking back his seat. “That’s why I didn’t invite them back.” Master explains as he leans back in his chair, still excited. “I’ll have to bring in a specialist for my baby. We have to make sure that nothing bad happens to it. You’ll have to start taking vitamins…”

 

You look down at your still flat stomach and put clasp your hands close to your belly button. A baby. How can you help the kid with a baby growing inside of you? How can you not help the kid? How will you keep it safe? How can raise it? How can you stay? How can you leave? Can you leave?

 

“Pet?” You jerk up at his nickname for you, and you notice how his smile has turned into a frown. “Is everything alright?”

 

“Fine.” You snap out the automatic answer, eyes wide in fear. “Everything’s fine. Great.” Increased breathing speed. Darn it.

 

Not again… You can’t afford to let him know how this makes you feel. You can’t. You have to get out of here.

 

“Alright, Pet.” Master takes your answer, and you try to slow down your breathing. “I was thinking that we can change one of the guest rooms into a nursery.”

 

_“Breathe with me.”_

A voice from what seems like a lifetime ago echoes in your mind, but you follow the remembered breaths. You remember feeling safe and being able to push the panic to the side to finally let it not control you.

 

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Hammer asks and this time the circling thoughts finally settle into some semblance of control.

 

You have to get out of here.

 

“Not really, sir.” You purposely raise a hand to your mouth with a grimace. “I feel a little ill.” You look at him, hoping that this time he will sympathize instead of getting angry. “Food. Sometimes eating…”

 

He stares at you in confusion before his eyes suddenly light up in understanding. “Morning sickness! Of course.” He pulls out his phone and starts scrolling through something on there. “It can effect different expectant mothers at different times of the day!” He reaches out a hand and taps a finger on that back of yours. “See, Pet? We’ll figure this out.”

 

You nod, as though agreeing with him, but you aren’t. Not this time.

 

_“Don’t do that.”_

_“What?”_  
  


_“Hide behind obedience.”_

“Go on to bed.” He tells you with a wave. “I’ll send Anya to check on you in a bit.” You stand and walk to the doors. “A baby… An heir. Try that on, Stark.” You hear Hammer say, even if you are almost positive that he thought you wouldn’t.

 

You go ahead and walk out. You ignore those words, and choose that right now is not the time to bring them up. No, but it does bring certain things into perspective.

 

Down the hallways you walk until you make it to your room. A glance around the place reminds you where all of the cameras and microphones are at, and starts to give you an idea. And a time limit.

 

Hammer has been able to control his impulses to hit you now, but what will happen to Wilson? What is happening to Wilson right now because he doesn’t have you as a punching bag?

 

_“Stop it.”_

_“Stop what?”_

_“You know what I’m talking about, Buck. Stop scaring the customers.”_

_“I’m not scaring them. I am merely reminding them of their manners.”_

People aren’t property. People aren’t things that you get to buy and sale. People aren’t objects for you to use to your pleasure. People aren’t punching bags.

 

_“He had me start earning my keep when I was ten.”_

 

Wilson is a person. He doesn’t deserve to be locked up. He doesn’t deserve to be punished just because Justin Hammer had a bad day. He doesn’t deserve to be treated like an experiment.

 

_“Hydra still had pieces of me.”_

_“Do they now?”_

_“No. I’m not their weapon anymore. I’m Bucky…”_

 

Just like Bucky was more than a weapon, Wilson is more than a means to an end. He’s a kid, and kids deserve to be kids. They need to be out there figuring out who they are in this crazy world with aliens coming out of the sky; not locked up with some crazy mad scientist trying to harness whatever was in their blood to make more soldiers.

 

_“Try not to get into too much trouble.”_

You finish your visual sweep to land on the worktable in your room. One of your hands come around to subconsciously rest against your stomach. A jerky glance to beside the bed has an idea forming when you note the clock sitting there.

 

Justin trusts you to not run away. Master expects his pet to stay around to be played with at his pleasure. Hammer knows that if there had been any flaws in his security, you would have been able to escape at the beginning.

 

What all three of them know is that you would never try to leave, especially while being pregnant. How would you be able to take care of yourself? Let alone someone else?

 

_“Sometimes bad guys are the only good guys we get.”_

But what Hammer doesn’t see is how can you stay? How can you, with your conscience intact, let someone go through what you yourself went through for years? How can you keep on following orders knowing what is going on behind closed doors? How can you stay, when staying would just give him someone else to hurt?

 

_“I’m a monster, sugar. I have… I have killed many people.”_

Running away the first time had been a spur of the moment thing. Not this time. This time, you have to plan it out down to the last moment, without Hammer getting an idea of what you are doing.

 

_“You… You are my neighbor. You have a friend named Stevie who has a thing against bullies. You know a scary hot woman named Natasha. You like peaches but not strawberries. Seriously. Who doesn’t like strawberries?”_

Your feet move you to where you know the cameras can only get a view of your back. Bending down, you reach into the area that you hadn’t bothered to get into for at least a month. Probably longer, considering how much he had you sleep at the beginning to keep you under control.

 

_“Hardison gave it to me in exchange for a scrambler.”_

You made a scrambler out of a few old electronics that someone threw away. Surely you can make something with what you have here to wipe out the cameras, at least for a few moments. Just enough to have them not know what you are doing until it’s too late.

 

_“I’m the one that’s going to teach you how to defend yourself.”_

No, Bucky. The greatest thing that you, and all of the others that you crossed paths with did was teach you that you are worth defending.

 

Bucky is a person. Not a weapon.

 

Wilson is a person. Not an experiment.

 

 ** _You_** are a person.  NOT Hammer’s plaything.

 

And it’s about time that you started to remember that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second chapter in a month! I was going to wait a bit longer, but thought "Meh, why not?". So, here it is. I think it's alright. Not what I originally had planned, but when has anything ever went to plan, right?
> 
> Hope to hear from you readers, and I hope to come up with an actual schedule that I'll be able to keep. Or maybe for future works actually have the whole thing written first? Probably. Even if I'll most likely never do that. :)  
> I know myself a little too well....


	22. The Roles We Play

“What kind of enhancements do you have?” You ask Spider Man during your visit the next day. You are mostly pretending that what you learned yesterday wasn’t true. Denial can only work for so long…but it’ll have to work. You can’t afford to start panicking and focusing on only that detail.

 

You had a lot more to line up before you can start figuring out what steps you have to do for that. Or what the options you even had.

 

For a moment, Wilson looks like he’s going to ignore you before doing an eye roll, as though deciding that telling you couldn’t hurt. “Flexibility. Strength. Hardiness.”

 

“Hardiness?” You ask, glancing at the file that you had already memorized. You had to know what skills your break out partner has.

 

Yes, partner. No way are you going to leave and have him remain to take the brunt of Hammer’s anger. Not going to happen. That’s not the way that you…that the you you want to be will do someone else.

 

“Yeah.” Spider Man/Wilson pulls at the restraints halfheartedly. “I can take a hit better than I used to. Guess increased healing speed. Only way Aunt…uh, the only way people wouldn’t notice. They’d think I was getting abused or something.”

 

That is made in a small notation in his file, and you recognize that hand writing as well as you know your own. You pause with your pen raised, though, as if you are about to make another notation. “Did he come in here last night?” You ask him, knowing that he’ll know who you are talking about.

 

Who else would come into this room but for you and the one that put him in here?

 

“Maybe.” The kid tries to put it off, but he’s looking away from you. “What does it matter, anyway? I heal pretty fast. Not like it’ll hurt long.”

 

The tremors start in your hands and you take a breath to calm down the fear flooding your system. Not fear. Rage. “Doesn’t make it right.” You tell him through clench teeth, the tremors barely under your control.

 

Not-Wilson suddenly looks at you with an intensity that you hadn’t seen before in his gaze. “It doesn’t.” The kid thinks he sees something…

 

Even if there is something there for him to see, you can’t let him see it. Not yet. “Anything else?” You ask him, just to change the subject. “Anything else about your enhancements?”

 

“They’re not ‘enhancements’.” Wilson told you with a bit of bitterness in his tone, the curiosity gone as quickly as it had come. “I was bit by a spider. An accident. A fluke. After that...just an accident.”

 

“An enhancement is ‘an increase or improvement in quality, value, or extent’.” You give the definition without emotion, telling him with facts how irrational he is sounding.

 

Enhancement is an improvement, no matter if it came by accident or not.

 

“I know what the definition is.” Wilson sighed out, unconsciously pulling at his bindings. “I’m just saying that it didn’t improve a lot. More like it messed more things up.”

 

Whatever it was, it was personal. You could tell how his voice lowered and if anything hardened. A kid’s voice shouldn’t sound like that. “Is there any decreased ability after prolonged immobilization?” The question you added to the list was put there with the reasoning of captured soldiers. Reality? You want to know how much help, or hindrance, getting Wilson out will be.

 

Since the kid has been here as long as you have been, but with decreased mobility, that means that even after you get the bonds off of him there will be weakness. The slight redness around his wrists that you can make out from time to time before the healing starts to kick in, you assume, is from chaffing. Long term chaffing.

 

“Don’t know.” The kid gives the bonds another yank. “Psycho comic book villain in there doesn’t let me out to play very much.”

 

An understandable precaution for Mas…Hammer. His name is Hammer. “Master doesn’t take kindly to being called a villain.” You tell him, instead.

 

“If the shoe fits…”

 

“Master is a kind soul.” You automatically defend Hammer, instinct taking over at anyone degrading the man that controlled you for most of your life. Before ‘Wilson’ can argue against that, you quickly jot down a note. “He gives freedoms to those that deserve it.” You can’t look at his face when you say that, not wanting to even chance him seeing how that twists inside.

 

That had been the original plan…and you forgot about it. How can you forget why you ran in the first place? Or why you fought so hard to get away at the beginning? Did you really think that things were better here? You survived on the outside on your own. You met people, both good and bad. Some became your friends, and others? Well, you learned how to better avoid them.

 

“’Freedoms’?” Not-Wilson scoffs and you look up to see him staring at a wall. “I just want to go home.” He mutters, and you can just make out the words that he says to himself.

 

Home…and wanting to go there. That’s something that you’ll never be able to understand. Even the time you went back to your parents…it had been you wanting a dream. “I…I’m sorry.” You softly say to him. Not-Wilson is a child. He came to your help, but he didn’t understand what he could be getting into. Just a kid wanting to go back home…

 

“Not your fault.” Not-Wilson sighs out, sounding as though he’s been over this a dozen times. Probably more, considering how long he’s been in the room thinking over his choices. “Chose to help.”

 

Just like you chose to help Bucky…with almost a sure belief that Hammer would then be able to find you. You had hoped to be able to leave, but at least you knew that there was a possibility. A rock and a hard place…Brain and heart fighting…

 

Heart won, whether you, or Not-Wilson, liked it or not.

 

The smart thing would have been to look the other way when Not-Wilson saw you. The smart thing would have been keeping your mouth shut when Bucky and his friends had been talking about options. The smart thing would have been…Would have been to keep yourself locked away without a chance of Hammer ever finding you.

 

But that’s just another type of prison, isn’t it?

 

Isn’t it?

 

“Pet?” Hammer’s voice coming from behind you has you fighting the instinct to tense up, though Not-Wilson looks at you with an expression that you have trouble figuring it out. _He saw._

 

Then an even worse fear goes through you. You hadn’t heard the door. “Yes, sir?” You call out, categorizing your mind into little boxes and quickly shoving the fear and questions of ‘How long has Master been there? Listening?’ into it.

 

“Did you eat breakfast this morning?” Hammer asks, actually opening the door to poke his head on in. “You are eating for two, you know.”

 

Not-Wilson is looking at you sharply, but you push away rebellion. You push away any thoughts and feelings that Hammer’s pet wouldn’t have. “I know, Master.”

 

Justin walks on in, and you watch him with a caution that only years of being under his control and fear could instill in someone. He bends down to give you a quick kiss on the neck that you had automatically tilted your head so he could get better access to. “You smell good.” He says into your neck, even as your eyes lock onto Not-Wilson’s.

 

Suddenly the kid’s eyes narrow and you silently tell him ‘no’. He shakes his head, but you harden your expression. You mentally tell him not to do what you think he’s going to do. Too many layers of protection right now. You have to wait.

 

Slowly Hammer straightens to look at the strapped down kid. “So, Pet, how is the subject doing?” His hand rests lightly on your shoulder so you can feel how tense he is holding himself.

 

Loose. Not a threat.

 

“Not a subject, dick.” Not-Wilson snaps out and you can feel Hammer’s hand tense on your shoulder as you quickly reach up a hand to cover his.

 

He looks down at you oddly, but you just look up with a smile. “Temperamental, sir. I’m starting to believe it’s a part of his…it’s personality. Something that might be able to be weaned out in a different subject. At least that’s what I’m hoping, sir. It can also be another effect of the enhancement. Maybe too much testosterone. I’m waiting for the bloodwork to come back.”

 

Hammer’s hand had slowly relaxed the more you talked. “Good. Hopefully it’s just this subject.”

 

“Maybe it’s the accommodations.” Not-Wilson bit out again and inside you bemoan his timing. “Trying to compensate, _sir_?”

 

Master already has his hand up in a fist before you can grab it and bring it to your chest. “Master.” You move so that you are between him and his target. “Justin.” You use his first name so that he focuses in on you. You massage the fist that you are holding in your hands and you can feel the tenseness leaving him with every stroke. Unconsciously you lick your lips and mentally berate yourself when his attention goes there.

 

He breaths out a breath that he had been holding and keeps focusing in on you. “You hardly ever call me that anymore…”

 

“I know.” You tell him, holding a hand up behind you as a sign for Not-Wilson to not speak. “I know I don’t. I just…” Quickly you file through every reason that you can come up with to get him out of the room. “I’m hungry.”

 

“Breakfast is still…” Hammer starts the sentence but suddenly stops as you rub a hand down his arm.

 

“No, Justin.” You take a breath and step close to him. “I’m _hungry_. I… I need you. Please?”

 

He pulls you so that you both line up together. You ignore the voice in your head yelling at you to get out. You ignore it, because this is what Master’s Pet does.

 

It gets between Master and the others that he’ll hurt in his rage. You can take it. You know the rules. You know how to play the role.


	23. Bruises and Well Laid Plans

Your bruises have bruises and it’s hard for you to move. Master took out his toys again…

 

He had been careful not to harm the…the…

 

You try not to think about it. If you start to think about it your brain will start to go in even more circles and the overwhelming panic won’t solve anything. You need to be levelheaded for the plan to work. This isn’t Not-Wilson’s fault. No…

 

It’s entirely yours.

 

It’s your fault that Master has to punish you. It’s your fault that…

 

No, you mentally interrupt that line of thinking as extricate yourself from the arm Hammer had thrown over you during the night. No. People make their own choices. Free will.

 

Even with that line of thinking, the bruises are still your fault. You stayed when you could have left. You wouldn’t have even been in this mess if you had left during the timeline you had given yourself. Though…though Not-Wilson would still be where he is now.

 

By staying you are in a position to help him.

 

The floor is cold when you place your feet on it. You are careful to not jostle the bed. Longingly you looking around the room for your clothes, before throwing the idea out. You need something more practical than a sundress for what you are going to do.

 

Maybe the best option would be for you to wait, but the pain that comes with every step you take has you shake the cautious side of you to the back. Not this time. If you wait much longer there will be no time.

 

You open the door, careful of the squeaking noise that you had mentally logged weeks ago. In the doorway you look back at where Hammer is sprawled on the bed. Your heart twists a bit at how he can look so innocent even with the dark spots covering your skin. He doesn’t look like someone that would hurt someone else.

 

But he does.

 

You close the door behind you and you walk down the halls, knowing that the only thing watching you is security cameras. If everything went to plan, it will only take you a few moments to override the security system, and to get through a few locks. You keep forgetting the skills that you learned while you had been gone.

 

You make it to your room and open the door before heading to your closet. Anyone watching the cameras, if there is anyone, won’t think anything strange about you wanting clothes. Or wonder why you snuck away from Hammer. One has even given you sympathetic looks from time to time when a new bruise would show up after Master came in from a business meeting that hadn’t gone that well. And sometimes even when things were going good.

 

In the back of the closet is where you dig into and find the plain clothes from years ago. The pants would give you an increase in mobility, and physical covering in case you fall. You grab a rubber band and pull you hair tight to your head. You pull out the weapons and tools that you had created at the beginning, but the last thing was something that you’d been fiddling with after Natalia and Banner had visited.

 

Theoretically it should let you into the security system to put the cameras on loop, and to let you open any door with an electronic lock.

 

Hammer keeps forgetting that a lot of weapons run on computer systems, even if he had been the one to let you learn.

 

Still in the closet, you pull up the right programs to start the loop. You let out a sigh and push all of your fears and anxieties out.

 

 _“Don’t let fear control you. Control the fear.”_ You remember Bucky telling you during one of the training sessions he insisted on you doing with him.

 

He may not have thought that you would be using it to escape from Mast…Hammer again, but it will come in handy.

 

You KNOW how to get out of someone grabbing you. You just have to remember that you know and not let the conditioning have you forget.

 

You are a NOT a scared child anymore, wanting anyone to love you. Even if the voice in your head sounds like it, you know better.

 

There is no knight in shining armor. Hammer came in like one, and look where that has led you to.

 

You leave the closet and look straight at where you know a camera is. The lens doesn’t follow your movement, and you smile to yourself. This may actually work.

 

You go down each hallway and unlock each door that you come to. When you finally get to Not-Wilson’s door, you take a steadying breath and type in the code. It had been easy enough to change, sort of.

 

“You here to question the _subject_ again?” Not-Wilson bites out and you quickly shut the door behind you, for once grateful for the sound-proofing Hammer put on most of his rooms.

 

“Durak.” You tell him instinctively in Russian. You cross to his side and start working on the binding on his right hand. “I’m here to free you.”

 

He gives you a funny look and starts yanking on his other wrist. “Why?” He asks the question and you pause in picking the lock. Physical locks aren’t your specialty, but you can do them in a pinch.

 

The lock pops open in your hands and you look up so that your eyes meet his. “Because it’s the right thing to do.” You tell him, right before the door behind you is flung open.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been a while, and that I haven't responded to anybody's comments, yet. I wanted to have the next chapter mostly finished before going through everything in the inbox. The words really can be a kick to get me writing, I'll tell ya'. Especially when I get near the 'ending' of a fic.
> 
> I have the third part kind of lined up, but I may not post it until I have about five chapters already written. Just another way of getting myself to actually finish some things, I hope.
> 
> As always, thanks for reading.


	24. Pain and Understandings

You slowly turn around, knowing who is behind before your eyes even have a chance to process the sight in front of you. "Master." You speak the word, but remembered pains make it come out as more of a whimper.

 

Even so, you are careful to keep your body between him and Not-Wilson. There's no reason for him to know how far your betrayal has gone.

 

"Pet." He looks at you with an expression of it had been anyone else you would say looked like hurt. "What are you doing in here?"

 

Conflicting emotions fight for dominance in your mind. Finally you decide on fear to be the one least likely to end this plan. "Working." You spout out the first thing that came to mind.

 

He's not convinced. "Learn anything new about our Subject?" Hammer comes further into the room so that he's within reaching distance.

 

You stop yourself before you could glance behind you. Not now. Only one of Not-Wilson's hands are free. You can't count on him to be able to help. "Some things, sir. I'm still worried about prolonged side effects. There's no way to reverse the effects." At least you guess that there isn't. You haven't been giving this project as much time as Master believes.

 

"I don't care about that, Pet." Master reaches out a hand and places it on your shoulder. He squeezes hard enough to make you flinch. There will be a bruise later. "I care about what we can get the government to buy. They are afraid, and will pay for anything that will give them an upper hand."

 

He's not wrong, and even if you know this isnt the time, you still tense up. "How about on the field, Justin? 'Overt aggressiveness' sound familiar? You know the records of other enhanced individuals."

 

Pain tingles on your face where he smacked you. "Know your place." He tells you offhandedly, like someone giving an order at a restaurant.

 

You glare at him, not letting the urge to cower control you. You are not a scared child anymore.

 

"Now, Pet. Don't be like that." Hammer purred, reaching out a hand in a soothing gesture.

 

You don't even bother hiding the way you tense up and you look straight into his eyes. Slowly and deliberately you reach up a hand to his wrist. Sweetly you smile at him, the fear that has controlled you for years going away with memories and confidence flooding through you. "I am NOT your pet."

 

You twist under and behind him before giving him a push forward. You crouch slightly down, lowering your center of gravity as Hammer finds his balance to turn to face you. His face turns red in embarrasment, or maybe in anger. Both options were equal in likelihood.

 

"Where's the key?" You are proud to hear how steady your voice is when your insides were feeling like jello.

 

Anger. The redness is anger. At least the way his voice rises keeps putting It in that option "What do you think you're doing?"

 

"Key, Justin." You tell him, sounding way more confident in your ears than you actually feel. "Peter doesn't belong here."

 

Eyes bore into the back of your head, but you don't turn away from Hammer. Now isn't the time. In this modern day world filled with cameras, how could the child truly expect for someone to not have narrowed down the possibilities? Or even to the truth?

 

"He's a science experiment." Hammer tells you, the anger on his face fading away to condescension.

 

  _"His name is Bucky. Not Winter Soldier. Not Sergeant Barnes. He's a person with thoughts and feelings."_

 

You told the reporters, complete strangers, that when they had come knocking on your door. Was this really any different? "No, Justin. He's not." You tell him, your voice fading a bit into thought as memories and pieces of ideas connect in your mind. "And I'm not your pet."

 

 Not paying attention was all Justin needed to swing a punch at your face. You fall partly on Peter, but before you have a chance to recover Hammer has grabbed you by the back of the neck and shoved his face into yours. "I own you." He spits the words out.

 

The practical thing would be to just agree with him, but you can't. Not this time. Not anymore. "No, you don't."

 

A hit to the stomach pushes out whatever breath you still had in you. He rants, his voice becoming a jumble and an accent to each hit at the same time.

 

"I own you."

 

"I made you."

 

"You're  ** _mine_**."

 

"Nothin' of yours..." You mutter out, feeling like a giant ball of pain on top of all the bruises from earlier.

 

_"I'm nothing of his."_

 

You hear the snap as something that shouldn't be able to break does. You smile as you hear more snaps. You had an idea that Not-Wilson could break the bonds...if something were to be strong enough to motivate the kid.

 

The hits suddenly stop and you hear a crash. Your eyes focus on where Peter has shoved Hammer back to the wall. Sweat is coming off the kid, and you remember the drugs.

 

You had asked for them to be lessened for you to get a better idea of what the enhancements exactly are, but even then a few months of being strapped down has to have been a shock a the kid's health.

 

The kid can't get out of here on his own, he doesn't even know how.

 

Hammer pushes himself up, and your hand circles around a copy of the tazer pen that you had Bucky try on you all those months ago.

 

Heart failure is a potential side effect, especially since you had trouble testing the charge with so many eyes (both real and artificial) watching you.

 

But do you really care?

 

"Pet." Hammer looks at you as you force yourself to stand. Your stomach churns and pain stabs your insides, but you make it to your feet. "You know I didn't mean it, right?"

 

"Psycho comic book villain." Peter mutters out, getting paler by the moment.

 

You tighten your grip on the pen, flipping the pocket clip to change it from a regular ink pen and into the weapon that will actually be handy in doing what needs to be done.

 

Neither you nor Peter have the strength to keep him here. You can't let him stop you. You can't.

 

A choice.

 

You shuffle forward and watch as Hammer's face changes from pleading to hope and then to confidence.

 

Peter looks at you as if you have completely lost your mind.

 

Maybe you have. But does it really matter anymore? "I know, Justin. I know." Then you jab the pen into his shoulder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys like it! I've been typing it out on my phone...yeah, kind of a pain.
> 
> The goal is to put up the last chapter by the 31st. Will it be done? I think it might. :)
> 
> Thanks for joining me on this journey. It's been a pie filled ride.


	25. Free At Last

His body convulses as the electricity enters his body. You don't have to keep pushing the pen into him, but there's a type of satisfaction in watching your tormentor finally get some of his own medicine. Electrical burns are painful, which you have the marks to prove that you know the truth of that.

 

A hand circles around your wrist, pulling you away from Hammer so the pen is no longer touching him. "Jeez." Not-Wilson leads you slightly back so Hammer can slump to the floor.

 

You should go to check that Hammer is alright. A good person would make sure the electric shock didn't kill him but just made him pass out. You should, but you can't make your feet move towards him.

 

Peter, not Not-Wilson you remind yourself, glances from Hammer's still body and your hand. You forgot that you were still holding the pen up. You flick your thumb so the clip would flip back to its normal position. No need for you to electrocute yourself.

"Lets go." You find your voice to say, and you make sure you don't look to where Hammer is slumped. You don't want to know if he's still alive or not. You can't afford to think too much about it.

 

"What about..." Peter points to where you know the bod...Hammer is laying.

 

You shake your head. If you give yourself too much time you know you'll start to shake and feel the pain from the earlier hits. "No time." You tell him, repeating yourself when he looked ready to go check on the still man. "No time." Your time was taking on a harsher tone while your head started to feel like someone thought it was a bongo drum.

 

You grab his hand, pulling him to the door. The inside cameras were on a loop, but you can't guarantee the outside ones. That wasn't even considering the dogs.

 

_Front door._

 

_No time._

 

"You're bleeding." Peter whispers out and you look down at your pants. Then further to where a small puddle of red liquid was starting form at your feet.

 

_No time._

 

You shake your head, holding your free arm around your stomach and ribs. There's no time. You have to get out of the house. You have to get away. Later you can deal with it. Later.

 

Things start to look a little black around the edges and you let go of Peter's hand to steady yourself against the wall. Everything spins just a bit and you close your eyes. The darkness behind your eyelids let's you focus your energy into a single goal.

 

_Out._

 

"Front door." You tell Peter, who was keeping one eye on you and the other on the highly decorated hall that the two of you were standing in.

 

"Which way?" Peter asks and you look at him with slightly crossed eyes. "I didn't exactly come in as a guest." He tries to make his comment come off as a joke, but it falls flat.

 

You point in a direction and push on the wall to help you to straighten on your feet. Freedom first, then you can pass out somewhere.

 

Maybe forever at this point, but do you care? It's hard to tell with everything feeling even heavier than it should be.

 

Feet are walking through sand with every step and weights hold down your arms. Even your head feels like there's a giant weight on it.

 

You stumble and Peter grabs your arm to keep you from falling. You hold back the wince, but are pretty sure you didn't stop it completely at the look he gives you.

 

Through one hall and down another. Was the place always this big? It never seemed to be before.

 

 Peter suddenly shoulders his way in front of you, having noticed something...more like  _someone._

 

"Sovenok," Anya's voice barely makes sense with the rushing in your ears and foggy mind piecing together a very deformed puzzle. "What did he do to you?" Her voice seemed to be more of a horrorized statement than anything else.

 

You don't have the energy to answer. Your brain just keeps going around in circles, seeking some kind of safe haven in the storm that is your life.

 

 _"Breath with me, sugar."_ Bucky had told you, making sure that you couldn't help but feel his breaths.

 

"Bucky." You mumble out his name, not noticing how much more you were leaning on Peter or how Anya's eyes had hardened in some type of decision. "Here." Anya told both of them, holding out a cell phone to Peter.

 

He takes it and looks down at it. Peter stares at Anya for a moment, then at the phone.

 

"It won't work until you get past the trees." Anya's accent, usually not that strong colors each word heavily. "Sovenok..."

 

She reaches out for you, but Peter plays at being a human shield. A hero even after everything Hammer had put him through.

 

"It ok." You mumble to Peter, feeling the seconds moving past sluggishly. You narrow your focus down to the goal and force away the pain.

 

Anya's eyes look over you before she leans forward to place a kiss on your forehead. She leans back, looking into your eyes for something that you don't know that you have. She nods as though accepting something that neither you or Peter could know.

 

At least you don't know.

 

Peter placed a hand on your shoulder and pulls the both of you away. You take a last look at Anya before turning with him. His face is starting to loose color. Either from your eyes unfocusing of the exertion after so long of being stuck in one main position.

 

The two of you hurry out of Hammer's home and down the gravel path. Anya was right about her phone not working. Probably just another measure Hammer had put into place to control his people.

 

At the trees Peter stumbles and you fall with an oof. He scrambles to you and you force yourself to sit up. He doesn't look reassured at the smile you force out.

 

He glances at the phone and woops out. "Finally! Signal." He starts typing on it, putting the phone to his ear after dialing a number quite a bit longer than 911. "Tony?"

 

His face lights up and the background is starting to get a bit unfocused again. "I need help." He listens for a moment before getting down next to where you have decided the ground really doesn't feel that bad. "Where are we?"

 

It's actually pretty comfortable. You don't even feel the rocks anymore. "Hammer's."

 

"Hammer's." Peter repeats and flinches, even you can hear the person's yells.

 

You close your eyes for a second and open them with someone shaking you. You let out a moan of pain as body pieces that had finally stopped hurting are shaken. Why is Peter looking down at you? You don't remember laying back.

 

"Hey, crazy lady." Peter keeps talking. You don't feel your fingers or toes. Huh, that's strange. "Come on. Tony's on his way. You know Tony, right? Come on."

 

You don't feel any of your limbs. Or really anything. You should be afraid, but you feel oddly peaceful.

 

"Hey! You don't get to die here, okay? You don't." You faintly hear him, and you smile at how innocent he sounds.

 

This isn't a game. This isn't a book. This is life. Sometimes you don't get to make it to the end.

 

You let go of the pain to float into the darkness behind your eyelids.

 

Finally, finally, the fear that always hid in the shadows is gone.

 

_Peace..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This wasn't the original ending I had in mind... I fought with the few options I had floating around before deciding on this one.
> 
> Hope you readers enjoyed the ride in Being Neighbors: Part 2.


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